In These Dreams of Eternity
by Vashka
Summary: An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits. DM/HG
1. The Quest Begins

**Title: **In These Dreams of Eternity

**Author: **Vashka

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits.

**Genre(s): **Action/Adventure, Romance

**Warning(s): **Mild Profanity, sex

**Timeline: **EWE. Post-Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer**: This work of fiction is not intended to be a derivative work as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the Harry Potter books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a transformative work which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story. _A Journey To The Center of the Earth_ was written by Jules Verne and a few elements of this story owe their origins to him. Also, I had a specific image from the picture book _Dinotopia_, by James Gurney in my head for a good portion of the story, so some credit goes to him. And I borrowed something from Pirates of the Caribbean. See if you can find it.

**Story Notes: **This was a long time coming, and I'm still not quite pleased with it. I hope you enjoy it though! (I may do some extensive revisions in the future.) Most of all- thanks to Itsbeenvery for drawing such an awesome picture! It totally ate my brain… and my time! Many, many thanks go out to my betas Ravyn and Heist for all of their hard work and encouragement. I wouldn't have finished without them, especially Ravyn.

The format of the story is a bit experimental. So don't get worried in later chapters.

**Beta(s): **Ravyn and Heist

000

_**Chapter One: The Quest Begins **_

000

On a small raft in the Arctic, a wizard and a witch glowered at each other as they watched their ship burn.

"This is your fault Malfoy," Hermione said stabbing her index finger at the burning wreckage feeling the familiar, welcome rage overtake her. "I can't believe you let them find us!"

"How is this my fault?" Draco sneered, gesticulating wildly. When this rocked the boat alarmingly, his eyes widened and he brought his arms closer to his chest. "_You_ were the one who let them start the fire!"

"At least I saved the compass!"

"But you let those idiots steal the map! And _I_ saved the chest, so we're even."

What remained of the mast fell with a loud _splash _into the water, sending a wave of icy water into the dinghy making the old planks groan, silencing their bickering. The water sluiced over the side of the small craft and into the floorboards. Draco grimly picked up a small bucket and started to dredge.

Hermione's breath froze in her chest as the cold slowly ate through her many layers. Slowly her anger melted away, revealing an undercurrent of fear. _We're at least a few hours away from land. It's freezing. It's close to dark. Luckily we're close to the Arctic Circle, so the night will be short. Thank Merlin it's not raining…_

A fat raindrop landed on Hermione's nose just to spite her.

Hermione suppressed hysterical giggles. Wiping away the traces of her tears from her cheeks, she picked up the small oar. "Shove off, Malfoy, and get rowing."

Draco narrowed his eyes and picked up a paddle. Turning to the head of the raft, Hermione thought she heard him mutter, "…_your _fault…" as he efficiently started slicing his oar into the grey sea.

000

Eight Months Earlier

Hermione was a Planer. An Organizer. As such, her plan looked something like this:

She would finish Hogwarts first in her class. (After that annoying Dictator-Who-Failed was taken care of, of course.) She would be Head Girl (Again, that idiotic megalomaniac kept mucking things about.) She would become a brilliant lawyer, fighting for the rights of the common wizarding people (This was almost a possibility- never mind that she hadn't actually tried a case yet. She did work for the Ministry Law Division, at least.) She would find a wonderful man, fall madly in love (Of all the things on her list, this seemed to be the hardest. Who knew intelligent, handsome, fun, kind men were so hard to find? Honestly. It wasn't as if she was asking the impossible.)

The letter was certainly _not_ in the plan.

Hermione stared at the message like it was a viper ready to strike. In fact, she wasn't sure that the message _wasn't _some sort of elaborate hoax perpetrated by some Death Eater nursing a grudge.

"What is it?" Millicent Bulstrode said as she walked by Hermione's little desk carrying a stack of files. Millie put down the files on the corner of Hermione's tidy desk and craned her neck to look at the letter in Hermione's hands.

The situation between Hermione and the former Slytherin had been strained at first. Their desks abutted each other in the large open room that served as the office space for the junior clerks of the division. Hermione had been civil to the Slytherin; indeed, she had been exquisitely polite to _all_ Slytherins, during her eighth year at Hogwarts. And the Slytherins had been just as polite to her. Novel, really. Not that they had much of a choice.

But civility certainly didn't mean that they _liked_ each other. Too much bad blood, too much hate had passed between them to let bygones be bygones so easily. So Millicent and Hermione's friendship had been a gradual thing, born of necessity and close quarters. They grew to respect each other's opinion about legal matters- often consulting each other about minor details. Work bled into social life- Hermione soon knew the particulars about Millicent's relationship with her steady boyfriend Gregory Goyle, and Millicent was there for Hermione to vent to when things with Ron went sour. But didn't really bond until coworker Lisa Turpin's Hen night. A mutual love of Ogden's finest and salsa dancing carried away any remnants of mutual dislike, and now Millie and Hermione had a steady lunch date every Thursday.

"You've been goggling at that note for a good five minutes now. Let me see." Millicent said, craning her neck comically to catch a glimpse. Hermione pressed the letter to her breast, her expression stubborn. But Millicent hadn't been in Slytherin for nothing. She quickly snatched the note from Hermione's hands, holding it above Hermione's head with a triumphant smile. "Stop that, Granger. You've been too short to get this back since second year. Let's just see what's got you so rattled, shall we?"

Hermione palmed her wand thoughtfully for a moment as she grabbed for the letter Millicent playfully pulled out of her reach. She caressed the smooth wood as she seriously contemplated accioing the parchment from her friend's grasp. Sighing, she released the length of vine. Everyone would know soon enough.

_Might as well get this over with_. Hermione grimaced. She wasn't sure, but she had an inkling that this may become a Big Deal…

As if proving her point, Millicent gasped. Waving the message in Hermione's face she shrieked ecstatically and hopped up and down like a schoolgirl meeting a celebrity. "Hermione," she squealed, "You're invited to compete in the Quest. The _Quest_, Hermione! Do you _know_ what this _means_?"

"Actually, no," Hermione muttered, but Millie didn't seem to hear, as she was showing everyone in the office Hermione's letter, with much the same reaction. The crowd grew, and so did Hermione's bewilderment.

When the senior partners broke out a bottle of champagne from the back room, Hermione felt a tad annoyed at being left in the dark. _As no one seems bothered to tell me what this is all about, it seems that a trip to the library is in order. _She wondered if she could leave and not be noticed. The chaos bubbled all around her, to the point where she felt she wasn't even necessary, even though this impromptu party was for her benefit.

Huffing, she gathered her things quietly. _The sooner I can get out of this madhouse the better. I have no idea what is going on. _

Picking up her coat, she was waylaid by her boss. "Hermione!" He said, already slightly tipsy, "You… you need an _indefinite_ vacation. _Indefinite!_ You take off all of the time you need to do this! We'll be rooting for you!"

As she was faking her best smile, hiding her mystification, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco Malfoy watching her from the edge of the crowd, cold grey eyes almost predatory. A strange chill of foreboding slithered up her spine as she met his gaze calmly.

This was one snake that she couldn'tmake friends with. Mostly out of principle. But also because Malfoy was just a nasty bugger.

He had never been handsome in school. Features too pointed and sharp gave him a distinctly rodent-like appearance that Hermione had always thought befitting the inbred ponce. His physique, small and thin, didn't help with the overall impression. Yet she had always been hyper-aware of him- he was always incredibly well groomed and on more than one occasion during arguments or in class, Hermione had been distracted by the scent of his cologne- something warm and spicy, cinnamon and sandalwood and something else she couldn't place.

Apparently, Malfoys were late bloomers.

She probably should have suspected it- his father was devilishly handsome and all of the Blacks were notoriously good looking, but when Hermione saw Draco again after a year, she was shocked. It wasn't that he looked _different_; it was as if an artist has taken the sketch of what Draco looked like before and judiciously altered it to please his patron.

He had taken to staring at her after the war. It had grown so commonplace the even Harry teased her about it. He never approached her and they never spoke, but she felt his eyes on her like a soft touch on the back of her neck at the oddest times. The staring used to unnerve her, making her hyper-aware of herself, her flaws, her looks, but when he made no move to ever come near, she relaxed. They hadn't actually spoken since his trial, over a year ago.

He had more reason to stare now, she supposed, as he must have heard the news. Hermione raised her chin proudly, and Draco nodded slowly in acknowledgement. _That's right, Malfoy. I will _not_ be intimidated. Not anymore. _

She spun on her heels and walked away to the elevator. _Now to find out what this madness is about. _

000

The Leaky Cauldron was a favorite among the once Dumbledore's Army. The food was good, the butterbeer cheap and the atmosphere familiarly cozy. Harry was a regular, and once Hannah started to take over management for old Tom, he didn't get gawked at excessively. It was a Wednesday night tradition for the group to gather there.

Hermione wished she were somewhere else. Preferably somewhere Muggle.

In the dim light sitting in the corner at their usual table, Hermione sipped a tepid butterbeer with her friends.

Sadly, she never made it to the library, as the news of her letter had made it to the other departments, and Harry and Ron dragged her out to celebrate. But she was still very confused, and she just wanted to drink in peace. It was still difficult to absorb today's events- her life was changing again, in a very large way, and she would like to reflect on that. And, if that were too much to ask, she would like some time to interrogate her Pureblood friends.

Sadly, seven and three-quarters of an hour later, Hermione still didn't know what that damn letter was all about, and lack of knowledge about anything, let alone something that now affected her well being, made Hermione a tad tetchy. She did know that; A- this was something to celebrate. B- it was something to celebrate _hard. _ And C- that it apparently didn't happen very often.

In an effort to keep sober, she pushed her third free drink of the hour in front of Ron, who grabbed it happily.

Seizing the moment of relative peace, she said, "So what is this quest, and why haven't I heard of it?"

Ron sputtered into his butterbeer. "You don't know?"

"No, Ronald," Hermione said, trying to keep the irritation from her voice, "I wouldn't have asked if I did, would I?"

Ron snapped his mouth shut, "But you're Hermione Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Raising a brow, she turned to Harry and Ginny, who were snickering on the other side of the table. "Some help?"

Harry shrugged and took a long sip of his butterbeer, but Ginny said, "It only happens once a century. It's a major feature of wizarding fairy tales, children's stories.

"It's just something everyone _knows._" Ron said. He shook his head slowly, eyes wide.

"Unless you're muggleborn," Hermione said dryly.

Harry caught Hermione's eyes over his mug and smiled.

Ron continued to shake his head and drunkenly exclaim his surprise to the point that Hermione had to leave, or she was going to hex him.

"I'm going to the loo," She announced, "I'll be right back."

The group waved her off, still in deep, drunkenly circular discussion about muggleborns and the likelihood of Hermione not knowing about the quest.

Hermione glanced over a witch dressed in provocative robes sitting at the bar, sipping a smoking martini at the mentioned of _that_ name. "Did you hear? About Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione perked up, and discreetly sidled up next to her, under the guise of ordering another drink. As she signaled Tom for another butterbeer, she thought, _Rumors about Malfoy? I shouldn't be so interested in the stupid ferret… but he stares at me incessantly. There has to be a reason! _

The handsome wizard sitting next to the witch was obviously eager to show off his Intel, "Oh, yes, and probably more- he works in my department, you know."

"Oh!" The witch tittered, "So you already know about…"

"Of course!"

_What? _Hermione thought irritably, _About what?_

"The _real_ new is a lot juicer."

The wizard lowered his voice and Hermione could see him leaning towards the witch's ear, obviously making a move. "Promise not to tell?"

"Yes," The witch breathed.

_Gag me. _Hermione made a face and sipped her butterbeer to hide the expression.

"Well, Astoria Greengrass told Pansy Parkinson, who told Nott, who told Goldstein that their breakup was not mutual."

"Really?" The wizard really had the witch's attention now; she was hanging onto practically every word. "_Witch Weekly_'s interview with Astoria said that the split was friendly."

"Oh, definitely not. Malfoy apparently fancied someone else and Greengrass couldn't stand it."

"Now that's a scandalous tidbit!" The witch crowed, "Who?"

"Well, there's rumor going around the office, which, if true, will make for an exciting…"

"Miss Granger! Just who we were looking for!"

Startled, Hermione turned around sharply, her hand reflexively going to her wand, only relaxing when she saw the face of her favorite teacher.

"Oh! Professor McGonagall!" Reluctantly, she pulled herself from eavesdropping to chat with Professor. "What a pleasant surprise!" Hopefully hiding her frustration, she led the older woman away from the bar to a quieter corner to chat. They dispensed with the pleasantries quickly.

"I was hoping to find you here," McGonagall said, "I had something to give you, which will help on your quest. I would have flooed later, but as I was here anyway, it seemed prudent to carry it with me."

"A gift?"

The usually stern Professor quirked a smile. "On of my ancestors was something of a rogue. A great explorer and wizard, but a rogue nonetheless. This compass is part of his legacy to me."

Reaching into her robes, the professor pulled out a small, old, wooden box. Carefully, she opened it, revealing a compass inside, the needle spinning wildly in all directions.

"What does it do? The needle is spinning every which way, not pointing north," Hermione said as she watched the Professor caress the carved wood casing fondly.

"It leads you to your heart's desire."

"Oh my," Hermione breathed, touching the ancient glass reverently, "I can't take this, Professor McGonagall."

"Minerva, please, Hermione." The professor took Hermione's hand and gently deposited the ancient compass. "I've always thought of you as the daughter I never had. If anyone deserves this adventure, it's you. This will be of more use to you, so you should have it."

"Thank you," Hermione said, tear in her eyes. Throwing her arms around the older woman, she squeezed tightly. "Thank you… I'll treasure it."

Professor McGonagall pulled back gently and beamed. Squeezing her shoulder fondly, she turned away with a cheerful "Good luck!"

"Professor! Don't leave, I have so many…" Hermione trailed off as McGonagall was lost in the crowded bar. "…Questions. Damn." Disappointed, she headed to the loo.

Her mind was spinning with questions as she washed her hands. The contest, Malfoy, the compass… it was all jumbled together like the pieces of a puzzle. She couldn't make any sense of it, and it was driving her crazy.

She slowly made her way to the table, stopping by the bar showed that the gossipy wizard and witch had disappeared. Quelling her disappointment, she received the congratulations of the other patrons with as much cheer as she could manage.

Seeing Neville and Luna at the table brightened Hermione's spirits considerably. Giving a happily little wave, she smiled happily as she pulled up another chair.

"Hermione," Ginny said, "Neville and Luna have the most fantastic news!"

"We've been chosen for Merlin's Quest also! Isn't that wonderful?" Luna smiled beatifically, but Neville's grin seemed a touch forced.

Ron, already deep into his cups, squinted at them, hard. "Why you? I mean, Harry and I'd already saved the world, right mate?"

Hermione frowned. "I seem to remember being there too, Ronald."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, pouting, "But you've already been Chosen. Why weren't _we_ chosen too?"

Harry raised a brow. "Speak for yourself, mate. I'm quite done with adventure. I have everything I need right here." He squeezed Ginny gently, and she giggled, gazing into his eyes fondly.

Ron made a gagging sound, and went back to his drink.

Smiling, Hermione turned to Luna and Neville, excited for the chance for more information. "Merlin's Quest?"

Neville smiled weakly and Luna answered. "Yes, Merlin's Quest."

Thankful for any sort of information, no matter what the source, Hermione continued to pry Luna with questions. "So Merlin is supposedly behind this madness?"

Luna nodded. "Over a thousand years ago, Merlin devised a Quest to bring the wizards of the world together. The call comes to the Chosen to meet in Camelot every hundred years."

Hermione blinked slowly, trying to process. "Camelot. Really."

"To participate in a grand Quest."

"As in the Quest for the Holy Grail?"

Luna cocked her head, intrigued. "The Holy what?"

"Never mind."

"We partner up," Neville said, "Two teams from each country, and they each have to complete seven Tasks."

Harry sat back thoughtfully. "It's a contest, right?"

"Mmm-hmmm." Ginny said as she cuddled into his shoulder.

"So what does the winner get?" Harry asked.

Ginny and Ron stared at him blankly. "Get?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured expansively with her mug. "You know - what's the point?"

"The Prize, of course." Luna said.

There was a pause as Hermione and Harry waited for someone to elaborate. When they didn't, Harry said, "What's the Prize?"

"No one knows."

"What?" Hermione said, "What do you mean no one knows?"

"Well, no one has ever won before!"

"Wait," Hermione said, slowly enunciating each word, disbelieving, "This Quest, supposedly designed by Merlin over a thousand years ago, pits teams from every wizarding country in the world against each other every hundred years. Using their wands and wits they have to complete seven Tasks. All for an unknown Prize that no one has ever won?"

"All true," Luna said smiling, "Except for one thing."

"No wands!" Ron said, jovially, drunkenly saluting his beer at the contestants.

"No _wands_?" Hermione said, flabbergasted.

Luna nodded enthusiastically. "Isn't this going to be fun?"

Neville looked a little ill.

000

One Week Later

Research was all well and good, Hermione knew, but seeing a dragon in real life always made the imaginary creature seem wan and pale; experience told her that she could prepare all she wanted and she would still be surprised. She tried to pack for all eventualities anyway, stuffing her trusty beaded bag full of essentials. She had experience, she told herself, she had camped for months, avoiding Death Eater detection, found the Horcruxes with only the faintest of clues. How bad could this be?

When she gathered her courage enough to touch the bit of parchment that acted as the contest portkey and was transported to the unknown starting place, she had to blink her eyes repeatedly to really _believe_. And she still didn't, not really.

"Camelot," She breathed, awestruck. "Wow."

She was standing in the ruins of a once-grand castle. Sunlight peeked through the holes in the ceiling, casting strange shadows on the walls of the castle hall. Bright shards of stained glass still stood in the windows, setting sparking bits of color around the large room. Most of the ceiling and tapestries had long crumbled into dust, but somehow the hall still looked intimidating.

A massive round table dominated the space, easily enough space for fifty large men. Made of granite, it was worn and battered by the elements, but it still sent shivers up and down Hermione's spine. The contestants, popping in woozily from the portkeys, all looked around in wonder, not speaking. Although Hermione knew she should be sizing up the competition, she was too overwhelmed by Camelot to really care.

This crumbling place was _special. _

_Perhaps I should have stayed in bed this morning,_ Hermione thought, eyes wide clutching her little beaded purse with a little more force than necessary, _I think I've had my quota of adventure this lifetime, thank you. _

For a moment, Hermione felt like she was a Firstie seeing Hogwarts for the first time. The same sense of wonder, of excitement, of _possibility_ squirmed in her stomach. This was magic - magic unlike the mundane sort that she had gotten used to in her work, in the magical world. This was the kind of magic that she felt in her bones, a deep thrumming current that both energized her and scared her.

Again, Hermione wondered if she should have stayed home today.

Standing a bit apart from the growing crowd of contestants by the Round Table, she studied an almost complete stained glass window, admiring the brilliance of the medieval colors. A knight and a lady, she thought, although half of the knight's body was gone and the lady's head was absent. The knight turned and winked. I_Wizarding glass!/I_ Hermione thought, delighted. She wasn't sure why she was surprised, but she was. Muggles and wizards lived closely together for many years before the Statute of Secrecy, especially in Merlin's time.

The hall was ringed with stone statues- gargoyles, knights, maidens, lions and all sorts of creatures Muggle and magical. She walked over to a stone gargoyle on the edge of the wall, and touched the smooth marble wing tentatively. As her hand touched the cool stone, the creatures' fearsome head turned towards her slowly. Snatching her hand back, she mumbled a quick apology. The gargoyle gave a toothy grin and settled into its former position.

"Hermione!"

She turned from the statue and smiled in relief at the two familiar faces. "Neville! Luna! So good to see you."

As they chatted quietly, Hermione craning her neck to see if someone else she recognized from Britain was in the growing crowd. She hadn't heard anything about other invites, so she assumed whomever it was kept their involvement in the infamous contest a rather hush-hush.

As they stood there, the skin on Hermione's neck began to tickle, as if a bug scuttled over the flesh, and she felt a vague restlessness grow in the pit of her stomach. _I'm being watched,_ she thought, _watched intently_. She was used to the common stares, she Harry and Ron were often objects of fascination when they went out in public. But this was different, her instincts told her, like Malfoy's stares were different, but somehow not the same as him. Malfoy never made her feel this… dirty.

Subtly, she turned her head to scan the crowd. _It's not Malfoy, so who is it? _

Hiding her growing unease, she leaned back against a column in the corner, gaining some comfort that her back and flanks were secure from attack. She scanned the crowd again, more deliberately, her hands twitching above her wand.

She straightened her shoulders, giving her an air of confidence. _Where is the bastard… no… no… there._

It wasn't Malfoy. She knew how to deal with Malfoy. The first impression of _this_ man: large. Second impression: large. Third impression: hairy. Fourth impression: up to no good.

This man looked at her with an air of avid, rapacious hunger that made her infinitely more uncomfortable than Malfoy's glares. Her gut screamed that this man was evil, and she _always_ trusted her gut. She had always placed logic over intuition as a young girl, but through painful experience, she had learned, and learned hard. War had honed her into a weapon, and she used all weapons at her disposal.

She held the man's stare for a count of three, and then deliberately turned her back. _I'm not afraid of you_. Smiling cheerfully, she said, "So Neville, what did your grandmother think when she heard the news?"

They talked for a few minutes more, and gradually, a hush fell over the room. She felt the slimy weight of the ugly man's gaze dissipate as his attention was caught by something else. A quick peek through her lashes showed him on the other side of the room, standing with a group of rough-looking men.

_If he's the other English contestant, I'm out of here. _She gazed at the captivated faces of her friends as they gestured excitedly at the stained wizarding glass. _And I'm taking Neville and Luna with me. No prize is worth working with that man. _

A gasp came from the front of the rabble. Hermione couldn't see very well, so she grabbed Neville and Luna's hands, leading them around the edges of the crowded room to see what was happening. She found them a spot by a statue of a knight that gave them a good view of the round table, albeit somewhat uncomfortable as the handle of the knight's stone sword poked into her back. She winced and mumbled an apology to the statue, whose helmeted head nodded back gravely. She turned this way and that, trying to get comfortable, but gave up as another gasp rippled through the crowd.

A stone lion had detached itself from the side of the room and sauntered up to the round table. As the audience watched, rapt, the stone feline leapt onto the table and then delicately arranged itself in a lazy pose. _Just like Crookshanks, _Hermione thought, amused.

"If I may have your attention."

Hermione squinted at the lion carefully. _I didn't see his mouth move_. Indeed, the lion was currently licking its stone paw with a stone tongue. She caught Neville's confused gaze and shrugged.

"Hem, hem!" A deep bass rumbled, "Over here!"

Hermione saw it - a small white marble mouse perched on the lion's head.

She stifled a small giggle, but heard outright laughter from some of the other contestants.

The small mouse opened its mouth again and sang in a booming bass that shook the crumbling walls.

"_Before ye go adventuring, _

_These thing must ye know_,

_To win Merlin's Prize,_

_Seven Tasks you must complete,_

_Seven or none at all."_

"I could do without the song," Neville muttered.

"_The Jewel of Wizardry, _

_Will not easily come,_

_To those whose magick is strong and true,_

_Not needing wands of Hawthorn and Yew."_

Hermione winced. "Ugh. Now it's trying to rhyme."

Luna shook her head. "Poorly done, too. Poorly done. Mice are never good poets; they should leave that to the owls."

"_Ye must not falter,_

_Ye stay the course, _

_To lose your way means peril,_

_This will be the only boon you receive."_

A beautiful map appeared in Hermione's hands and with a quick glance around the room: she noticed half of the people in the room had maps.

"_Your journey will be long,_

_Failure is most assured, _

_But Perhaps the Prize will be yours_

_In these dreams of Eternity." _

"Now, contestants. I shall name your partners in the Quest."

A bit of parchment appeared in Hermione's hand. It said:

_You will find the shining Queen's Crown in Ireland's eternal Paradise._

As much as her brain wanted to puzzle over the clue, she tucked it in the pocket of her jeans and forced herself to pay close attention as the mouse rattled off the names of the contestants.

"For Bulgaria! Andrei Iliev and Gavril Manov!"

The large, hairy man, who had stared at Hermione earlier, joined a small, shifty looking man with dead blue eyes. Seeing them together set off every alarm that wasn't already going off from the earlier staring match. She tried to place the feeling, and she realized that this was the innate sense that she felt from being around the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange or Fenrir Greyback.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Hermione muttered.

"For England! Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood!" The mouse's deep bass boomed, "Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy!"

Time stopped.

Hermione looked up, shocked, and he was there.

Staring at her, as always.

000

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak.

The small group stood together for a long time, long enough that most of the other contestants, eager to start, left the hall. Hermione certainly wasn't eager to start anything with Malfoy. Yet there was a small, niggling sense of relief that she wasn't paired with either creepy guy.

_The evil you know versus the evil you don't? _Hermione thought as she glared at the blond, _such dilemmas._

Neville's face was blanched a sheer white and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow. Hermione squeezed his hand fondly. "You'll do fine Neville. Don't worry so much."

Neville, still looking a bit green, smiled back. "You're right, as always, Hermione." He cast a worried look at Malfoy, stiffly glowering in their direction. "Are you sure you'll be alright? Malfoy has been pretty quiet these past few years, but he's still a nasty bugger. You don't have to do this, you know. You should quit. Putting up with him is too much."

Hermione stared at him blankly. She didn't need more insanity in her life. She had considered quitting. She knew with certainty that if she were paired with the creepy man from earlier, she would walk away without regrets. She gazed at the glowering blond. As her eyes met clear grey, a chill of _something_ crawled up her spine.

An adventure with Draco Malfoy? Definitely insane. But she was having a harder time walking away than she should.

"You can't trust him, Hermione," Neville whispered. "You weren't there that last year at Hogwarts. He wasn't as cruel as Crabbe or Goyle, but he was still a Death Eater."

Hermione nodded absently, her eyes still locked with Malfoy's. He was staring at her, as if by the sheer power in his gaze he could see into her soul. Her eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps it's because he's a fox at heart."

Hermione blinked in surprise and turned to Luna. Luna tilted her head towards Draco and said, "You can tell a lot about a person from what kind of animal they are. There was an article in the _Quibbler_ about it a few months ago. You're an otter – creative and intelligent." She then pointed at Neville, "He's a horse - dignified and brave. I'm a rabbit. And Draco is a fox."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What does that even mean, Luna?"

Neville frowned. "But how do you know that he's a fox? He could just as likely be a snake or a lizard, or some other vile creature!"

"Animal husbandry, Longbottom? How very plebian. Fitting."

Everyone's head snapped around, while Neville choked and sputtered.

His presence was too much for Hermione to handle at this point. "Go _away_, Malfoy. This is a private conversation. Not that you'd understand common decency."

"Tsh." Draco drawled, voice cold and a little raspy. "So touchy. Not at all what I would expect from a _partner."_

Hermione rounded on him. Fine, so the prat didn't want to be ignored? She would give him her full attention. "I never agreed to work with you. I don't like you, I don't agree with you in any way, and I don't trust you."

Draco leaned against the Round Table casually, disrespectfully, crossing his feet at the ankles. "Obviously, Granger. And rest assured, I feel just as strongly about your swotty little self." He shrugged. "What to do? What's done is done. I need you to win the Prize, and you need me."

"I don't see why you're my partner at all. What could that mouse be thinking?"

Draco raised a brow. "I think you should reassess your words to see just how silly that sounded, but point taken. Perhaps… it's because we each have something the other needs?"

"Spoken just like a fox." Luna nodded firmly. "We can trust that he will be crafty and look out for his own interests - and now Hermione is one of those."

Hermione stared at him, trying to peer into his soul as he and Neville bickered. She couldn't trust him, that was a given. Yet he wasn't likely to murder her or to rape her, or any number of distasteful things. She was at his trial and knew of his distaste for unnecessary violence. "A fox, Luna?"

The blonde girl nodded solemnly.

Neville still looked dissatisfied by the prospect of leaving one of his best friends alone with Malfoy for an extended period of time. Hermione couldn't blame him, really.

"Hermione, you're famous enough already. You don't have to go anywhere with this wanker."

"Language, Longbottom, language. Mustn't sound like a common gardener," Draco smirked. "Ah, I see it's too late."

Hermione peeked at Draco from underneath her lashes to see him arch a brow sardonically at something Luna said. Searching her feelings, she found, to her surprise that her mind was already made up.

She wanted this.

No, she _needed_ this.

She was going on an adventure with Malfoy.

She was insane. Probably.

She held Draco's cold eyes for a moment before sticking out her hand. "I can work with you in a purely professional capacity, if you can work with me. There will be no harm done, or threats of harm to my person, physically or otherwise. There will be no insults, references to blood purity and my lack of it, and there will be no disparaging remarks made about my person, my choices of friends, my House, my other personal decisions and anything else that is none of your damn business. But I've decided I want this Prize, whatever it is, and I'll be damned if you will hold me back. I will only take your solemn word as a wizard. Vow it, or begone." Hermione smiled then, showing lots of teeth, shoving her hand forward into the space between them.

Neville shuddered.

Draco's brow furrowed for a moment in thought. He looked at her small, manicured hand as if it held some sort of disease. Likely he thought it did. After a few heart-stopping moments, Hermione thought he was going to refuse. But surprisingly, he placed his hand in hers.

His hand was warm, softer than she was used to, and not at all sweaty. Hermione's mouth opened slightly in surprise. It was... nice.

"I can't promise not to insult you, but I can promise the rest. And I want a similar vow from you. Quid pro quo, Granger. I don't trust you either."

Hermione closed her eyes and prayed for patience. "Fine."

Malfoy sneered slightly, and his hand squeezed hers tightly. His eyes met hers, and a spark of power traveled through her spine as he softly said, "I vow, in this sacred place, that no harm will come to you by my own will, and that I will do my best to protect you from any and all."

Hermione shivering with the power of the magic, gripped his hand a little tighter. "I vow, in this sacred place, that no harm will come to you by my own will, and that I will do my best to protect you from any and all."

The words rang out clearly in the stone Hall- the air shivering with the weight of the Vow. A moment passed, and the statues of a hundred knights raised their swords aloft, stone creaking and cracking in a silent salute.

The small group stood in silence stood in silence, a bit shocked.

"So mote it be." Luna whispered.

000

"Where are we going?" Hermione said, for possibly the tenth time. She gritted her teeth as the broom made another swooping dive and her arms tightened on Draco's waist. It was a cold evening, and Hermione was extremely glad that she had the foresight to put on her leather jacket and gloves. Her ears were still chilly, but it was bearable as long as Draco didn't move at the speed of light, causing the wind to tear into her skin.

The Malfoy family, he said, had some form of magical transport that did not require the use of wands. Hermione, honestly, had wanted to see Draco subjected to the queues at airports, and to amuse herself with his antics at the muggle tube station, but she supposed that it wouldn't be practical. She certainly wasn't made of money, and while she would relish spending Malfoy's on such muggle banalities, there were seven tasks that they had to complete- most likely in places that muggle transportation wouldn't reach. She would see what Malfoy had to offer and reserve judgment.

"For the last time- we are going to Dover. Please refrain from asking me questions while I am flying. I would prefer not to die this evening. Thanks." Hermione could hardly hear the reply due to the howling wind, but the tone still set her teeth on edge.

"And would you mind not groping me? It makes me uncomfortable."

Hermione's glare should have made him combust on the spot, but alas, the annoying blond was still skillfully maneuvering the broom. It made for a very uncomfortable ride, as Hermione and Draco, unable to use their wands, were luckily able to use Draco's Nimbus to escape Camelot, which he had had on his person. Unfortunately, Hermione had to ride behind him. Brooms, fashioned for one rider, made for a tight ride between two people who _liked_ each other. Hermione found that her breasts were squashed to Draco's back, and her hips were very, very close to Draco's bum. Which she now knew to be very firm, and of a very nice shape. Malfoy was sure to relish her blush. She was supremely glad he couldn't see it.

And Hermione had no intention of telling him of her fear of heights.

She thought he might have noticed anyway.

"Granger!" He barked, "Stop shrieking! Do you _want_ us to crash?"

Hermione, most emphatically, did _not_ and said so.

"Then shut up, hold on, and _stop distracting me_."

Briefly, Hermione wondered what was so distracting, but was soon distracted herself by the nauseating spin Draco made to avoid a flock of seagulls. Holding back her vomit took all of her concentration.

Distracted by her roiling guts, she nearly missed Draco's shout that they were nearing their destination. Opening her eyes, she squinted through the sharp wind and even thought the light was dimming, made out the white cliffs of Dover in the distance.

Praising Merlin for small miracles, she buried her face into Draco's cloak and sighed. She felt him stiffen, but didn't care. She _hated, hated, hated_ flying.

She didn't relinquish her death grip on his waist through the horrific slide downwards. When her feet were firmly on the ground, she leapt off the broom and self-consciously started to straighten her clothes.

Draco pushed his goggles to his forehead and silently watched her. It didn't seem fair that he looked like he stepped off of the cover of a Quidditch magazine while she probably looked like a refugee. He studied her carefully and seemed to contemplate saying something but, as usual, he kept silent and simply watched her.

_Good_, Hermione thought, _if he even dares say something, anything, I'll hex him so hard his mother will feel_... Her thoughts trailed off and she released her instinctive grip on the familiar length of vine. No wands. _This may be harder than I thought_.

When she moved to repair her wind-blown hair, she heard a snort.

Draco smirked. "You shouldn't even try - you look like a complete disaster."

Hermione huffed and stuffed her tangled curls into a messy bun. "Spare me." She zipped her leather jacket so that it fit snugly against her body. "Show me this transport of yours."

Draco rolled his eyes at her demands but turned swiftly and began walking along the path, his long stride eating up the ground beneath him. Hermione, with her short legs, practically had to run to keep up with him.

It wasn't long until they came to a beach. The water looked cold and grey, but the sound of the ocean had always been soothing to Hermione. She stopped for a moment and closed her eyes to savor the sound and smell of salt. A gull cried in the distance, and for the moment, she imagined that she was here on an adventure with someone she liked, someone she _trusted_.

Opening her eyes, she found Draco staring at her, the harsh planes of his pointed face softened somehow. She expected him to chastise her for stopping, for holding up his race to the Prize, but he just turned away and started walking again. Kicking a pebble in his general direction, she felt a sharp pang of anxiety tightening her chest.

Shrugging it off, she doggedly set out after him.

The beach seemed endless, and after awhile Hermione wondered if Draco actually had a destination in mind. "Malfoy? Do you know where we're going?"

He slanted her an evil glare. Hermione was not intimidated. Just to annoy him, she affected her most priggish voice. "We have been walking for awhile. I would like to be at our destination before dark, if it isn't too much to ask." She paused a fraction of a second, savoring the tension in his stance, then said, and "If you're lost, I _may_ be able to offer some assistance."

She bit back a smile as she saw him grit his teeth. "We should be there shortly."

"Should?"

"It... moves. And I've never been there without apparating. I am I_not/I_ lost. So shut up and let me find it."

Now Hermione's curiosity was really piqued. What would move? A vehicle? Some sort of magical creature? She had read about a moving houses before - perhaps the Malfoys had acquired one?

Hermione followed Draco with renewed vigor, still not convinced that he wasn't lost, but somewhat more comfortable with his lead. For now. Instead of annoying her _partner_ Hermione decided to think about the clue. It wasn't a particularly difficult one - Obviously the destination was in Ireland, and obviously it had something to do with royalty. But the Irish wizardry hadn't had royalty for generations, and muggle Ireland didn't have a royal family. Of course muggle Northern Ireland was still under British control, but somehow she didn't think that she was meant to break into the Tower of London and steal the Crown Jewels.

She was missing a key point and she didn't like it. It should be obvious...

_You will find the shining Queen's crown in Ireland's eternal Paradise._

_The shining Queen's crown_. She let the phrase turn over and over in her mind while the calm rhythm of the sea soothed her anxious soul. Letting go of her frustration, she concentrated on enjoying the walk.

Suddenly, Draco stopped and Hermione almost crashed into his broad back. Looking around, Hermione couldn't see that this area of the beach was different than any other, but she stayed silent to humor him. She raised her brows haughtily, but politely refrained from saying anything for the moment. She caught his gaze, crossed her arms and gave him her best _get on with it_ look.

It didn't work as well on Draco as it usually did on Ron, but he seemed to get the message. He stooped over and, to Hermione's great surprise, tugged off his expensive boots, one after the other. As he shucked his socks, Hermione's jaw dropped.

He wiggled his toes on the cold ground and grimaced slightly. His feet were long and thin, and she could see delicate high arches. The ankles were thin and shapely enough that Hermione was slightly jealous. His smallest toes were crooked outwards, as if they wanted to secede from the rest of the toes, and his big toes looked like a hammer had recently squashed them.

_He has surprisingly attractive feet_. Hermione felt it like a kick in the gut. The shock of seeing such an unexpectedly personal part of him somehow shook her. _I've never thought about Draco Malfoy's feet._

And why should she? She wasn't interested in him _that_ way. He was disturbingly attractive- for all of his pointedness - he radiated an animal charisma that her body found hard to ignore. But she had always, _always_ been completely, utterly turned off by his attitude, his bigotry, and his nastiness.

_And that will_ never _change_. Hermione thought, forcing her eyes from his bare feet.

She glanced at his face and noticed that Draco eyes were closed, his mouth tightly set, his face in lines of strict concentration. He raised his left arm towards the sea, cupping his hand.

When she followed the direction of his outstretched arm, Hermione gasped.

There was a ship gracefully cutting through the grey waves, headed directly for them.

It wasn't a large ship, by any means, about the size of a small fishing vessel. Made of a deep, rich wood, it had stark white sails. As it came closer, she noticed a snake carved into the bow, encircling it many times and coming back on itself to eat its own tail.

Mesmerized by the billowing sails Hermione blinked for a moment and tested the wind. There was none. Glancing at Draco, she noticed his steely grey gaze focused on the craft, both arms outstretched, all of his lean muscle mass lethally tense his body poised for flight. Her mouth fell open in an _'O.' _

_Malfoy_ was controlling the ship.

Hermione, for once, couldn't think of a single thing to say.

The ship moved closer and closer, and she could make out intricate runes covering the hull, and her excitable brain itched to study them. _The possibilities! I've never heard of such a thing being done with wandless magic!_

When it finally came to a stop, Hermione waded out eagerly with Draco, her curiosity overflowing. He touched the hull of the ship reverently, caressing the worn wood fondly. Hermione bristled with impatience, her inner child pouting with the delay. As she climbed the ladder, she felt something watching her. She turned to look at the front of the ship, and saw the snakes' wooden eyes following her curiously. She shot it a tentative smile. _I hope that's not another Nagini. _

Cautiously, she explored the deck. Hermione didn't have extensive nautical knowledge, but it seemed a fairly standard sailboat with minor modifications cluing her into its magical nature. There were no ropes keeping the sails in place. The wind seemed to fill only the sails, and not disturb the passengers. And the wooden snake uncoiled itself from the bow and followed Hermione around the deck like a devoted puppy, charming her with its antics.

Hermione loved it.

Poking around the deck, she noticed stairs leading down. Following them, she was surprised to see a very cozy living space. The walls were lined with small windows, giving Hermione a clear view of the sea and the white cliffs of Dover. Two plush green sofas held up the walls, and a large, solidly built table was in the center of the room. Small knickknacks graced shelves around the room- jars of potion ingredients, a small stack of books, a few wizarding pictures of the Malfoy family - just enough to make the place look like a home. It was bigger than she would have thought, as this was a wizarding ship, but still small. A perfect size for two, maybe three people, but more would definitely be pushing it.

She poked her head into the surprisingly large bathroom, which someone had obviously magically modified. Hermione snorted at the size of the bathtub. _Someone certainly wasn't going on holiday without all of the comforts of home!_

The small bedroom was luxurious, there were two full size beds covered in piles of downy comforters and big puffy pillows. As she stepped into the room farther, her feet sank about an inch into the plush blue carpeting. There were two ebony chests at the foot of each bed, beautifully inlaid with silver runes and filigree. A large, ornate silver mirror hung on one wall, and a small window graced the other.

Hermione was suitably impressed.

A further look around the ship revealed a small kitchenette off of the living space, a pantry and a water closet.

_There's only one bedroom._ Hermione thought. _That's going to be awkward._ Her mind was still reeling when she finally climbed up the stairs.

She found Malfoy standing on the deck, barefoot, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, his robes discarded on the deck. He stood by the wheel, his pale hair gleaming bronze with the sunset. One hand remained steady on the spokes of the wheel, his biceps bulging against the white lawn of his shirt. His other hand was raised, gesturing to the sails, commanding the winds.

Absently, she noted that he still had his Quidditch goggles pushed up onto his forehead. Somehow, that didn't make the picture ridiculous, but made him look even more divine.

He couldn't have looked more like a romantic hero if he tried.

Clearing her throat, she glanced at the ship again. "It's beautiful. Does the ship have a name?"

Draco smiled, and Hermione sensed that the smile was weighted with many, many memories. Happy, she thought.

"_Ouroboros_."

"The snake eating its own tail." Hermione finished. "Fitting. Very Slytherin."

Draco smiled slightly, as he traced the wheel lovingly. "It's a symbol of Eternity - a circle that never ends. Like the Malfoy family."

_Eternity_. _You will find the shining Queen's crown in Ireland's eternal Paradise._

Something clicked in Hermione's head. "I know where we need to go!"

Draco crossed his arms. "Alright Miss Swot, tell us then."

Hermione did. And Draco smiled, genuinely, at her for the first time.

It disturbed her.

000

Two Days Later

They sailed into the Isle of Dreams with the mist - riding the midnight fog silently into a rocky bay.

Draco, feet bare, arms aloft steered the ship into the cove expertly, barely making a ripple in the still black waters. Suddenly, he dropped his arms, his palms making great swooping motions across his body. With a great sigh, the wind left the sails, and they coasted the rest of the way to the shoreline.

Hermione watched him from her perch on the small bench in the bow, eyes wide, still marveling. After watching him for the past few days, she found that the mechanics of the ship were still as fascinating to her as the first time she watched the ship sail into Dover. And after careful study, she thought she figured it out. The magic interested her, as it always did, but it was Malfoy's attitude that fascinated her. Malfoy really seemed to _love_ sailing. He was so relaxed when captaining the ship, so happy with the wind in his hair. She had never seen him so involved in anything, so bereft of his usual posh ennui.

It was disturbing. Which seemed to be a trend when it concerned Malfoy.

As they came to a stop, Hermione uncurled herself from the bench like a cat. Grabbing her pack, she slung it over her shoulder. While waiting for Malfoy to tug on his boots, she couldn't resist asking. "Can I try?"

He looked up, one pale brow raised. "Sailing the ship?

Hermione nodded eagerly.

Malfoy grunted. "Even if I would let you sail _my _ship, which I certainly won't, I'm afraid you couldn't." With a final tug on the laces to make sure they were tight, he rose, pulling on his cloak and large, rubber, knee-high fishing boots over his boots and trousers. "Only those with Malfoy blood can captain this ship without a wand."

"Oh," Hermione bit her lip, "So if I could use my wand, I could captain the ship?"

Malfoy sent her a quelling glance. "Let's go."

"Fine," Hermione muttered as they walked to the ladder, "Keep your secrets. It's not like we're supposed to trust each other with our lives or anything."

As Hermione made to descend the ladder, the wooden snake slithered along the railing under her hand, almost causing her to fall off the deck. While Draco snickered at her clumsiness, Hermione patted the magical creature while trying to get her bearings back. "Silly snake. Almost caused me to bash my brains out." She carefully climbed down the ladder, thankful for her own knee-high fishing boots as they trudged through the shallows to the beach.

Sad that they couldn't stay and admire the lovely beach, Hermione tugged off her rubber boots, trying not to get the soft sand in her clothes. As they walked on the pristine beach to the forest just beyond, Hermione said, "Does the snake have a name?"

"Not a formal one…" Draco trailed off, obviously remembering something.

When he was silent for a few heavy minutes, Hermione prompted, "Did you have a name for it when you were a child?"

"Yes," Draco said.

"And?" Hermione prompted after a few moments of silence.

"Snakey," Draco mumbled.

Hermione giggled, "Snakey?"

"I was three. The name apparently stuck."

"Actually, it seems rather appropriate. He is a very friendly creature, isn't he? More like a crup than a snake."

Draco grunted, and Hermione figured that he wasn't listening anymore; most likely calculating ways the scheme could go wrong.

What could possibly go wrong in Tír na nÓg, the mystical Irish land of Faerie, inhabited by dangerously, incredibly powerful magical beings when wands were prohibited?

Hermione decided to ignore her common sense _and_ her instincts, and stick to the plan.

Their strategy was simple. Almost stupidly so, but the simpler the plan it was less likely to be complicated by those _minor_ issues of trust and respect. Make it through the forests to the palace of the Dream Queen. Wait for the guard change. Sneak into the palace. Steal the crown.

_Yes_, Hermione thought, an awful burning sensation in the pit of her gut, _There's no way this will go wrong._

The place really was beautiful, Hermione mused as they snuck through the forest as quietly as they were able. Beautiful in the way vacation resorts are beautiful. The bright moonlight made it possible to see the path without Muggle flashlights or witchlight. It gave the landscape a dreamy quality, hazy beauty seen in a mirage when dying of thirst. The trees were vaguely tropical – in Ireland! – and the flowers were in full bloom, layering the air with heavy perfume even though it was mid-October. There were no insects that Hermione could determine. Usually she would be the buffet for all sorts of bloodsuckers, but the Queen must have put a moratorium on mosquitoes.

_Must be nice,_ Hermione thought as she tromped through the high grass.

Yet for all of its beauty, Hermione felt uneasy. It just didn't feel real, as if the lovely exterior was just a façade for something much more sinister, which certainly wasn't helping the sinking feeling in her gut.

The island was small, with only two real villages and the palace, so it didn't take them long to reach the boundaries of the royal grounds. Crouching, Hermione and Draco carefully assessed the situation from behind a particularly overgrown shrubbery with a pair of Omnioculars.

They sat there for what felt like hours to Hermione's poor knees before Draco was willing to move from the hiding spot. _It's like the opposite of a heist with Harry and Ron, _Hermione thought sardonically, rubbing her back gingerly, _and I thought _I_ was cautious._ "Shift change," Draco whispered, his grip tightening on the Omnioculars, "We have about three and a half minutes. Let's move!"

As they quickly ran across the manicured gardens, Hermione felt the familiar flash of adrenalin heightening her senses. Although the lawns were large and elaborate, they miraculously made it into the palace undetected.

The stood behind a pillar panting as quietly as possible as the new guard took their posts outside. Hermione felt like her lungs were on fire, and she _definitely_ felt that her office job didn't quite physically prepare her for this Quest. She felt a little better as Draco pulled out a crisp square of linen and wiped at the sweat on his brow. Little beads of sweat were forming on his pale skin, and tracking bright little trails down his angular cheeks, over his strong jaw line. She was mesmerized by a little bead that slowly wound its way down the lean corded muscle in his neck and finally disappeared into his shirt. Smiling softly, she looked back up at his face to find his hand had frozen mid-pat and his eyes were glued to something on her face.

She quickly spun away and saw to repairing her own disheveled appearance somewhat self-consciously.

After catching their breath, Draco carefully peeked around the pillar and surveyed the long corridor. He touched her shoulder gently, quickly, motioning for her to go first.

_He touched me of his own free will_, Hermione thought, _Will wonders never cease? _

Draco was surprisingly competent at sneaking. He kept his footsteps quiet, he knew how to minimize his admittedly large physical presence by utilizing conveniently placed furniture or tapestries, and he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to noticing guards.

Hermione was, sadly, not as competent. She could walk quietly enough, but years of using the invisibility cloak for mischief handicapped her. She just didn't have the instinct that Draco did when hiding her physical presence. Which made for some very interesting moments with them stuffed closely together, incredibly uncomfortable, trying to breathe as quietly as possible while some guard or courtier walked by.

However, she did have a better sense of direction. And the compass.

So when Draco disagreed with her, she obviously took his opinion as seriously as a flobberworm.

"Idiot!" He hissed, "That's the wrong way! The guards will catch you for sure."

"How do you know? The compass says the crown is that way."

"It doesn't feel right! Trust me."

Hermione snorted. _Yeah right. Malfoy's no Seer. _Closing the compass softly, she eased her way around the corner. Seeing nothing but a long, grand corridor like any other, she scanned for another hiding place. _That pillar over there looks large enough. _Taking a deep breath, she ran for it.

She was halfway there when a large hand caught her shoulder and spun her around.

Startled, she looked up into a beautiful, harsh, _unfamiliar _male face. Eyes wide she glanced over at Draco and was dismayed to see that he was currently being held down in a very uncomfortable looking position by two very irate looking Fae.

His eyes were murderous, so she quickly looked away, feeling vaguely guilty.

After subduing them (which was, sadly, ridiculously easy without the use of their wands) the guards marched them down a long, majestic corridor to a large set of golden double doors. After announcing their presence, the guards waited as a tall, snooty looking Fae male spoke quietly to another, more elaborately dressed courtier. After much hushed conversation and heated looks in their direction the doors opened slowly.

"The Queen wishes to judge the intruders Herself."

_Great,_ Hermione thought as they marched through a sea of curious, eerily beautiful Fae, _This is sure to go well. Good evening, your Majesty. We just wanted to nip by and borrow your crown for a while. No harm meant. _

"Kneel, humans!" The guards forced them to their knees, the guard controlling Hermione by twisting his hand into her long hair painfully. Suppressing her wince, Hermione glanced up at the Queen through her lashes. And froze.

The most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen sat in the throne. She was dressed simply in a long, flowing blue gown, her waist length, golden hair free, without adornment. She wore no jewelry. She didn't need it. And her expression was utterly blank. Terrifyingly so.

Hermione swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. _We're dead._

"Leave us." And with a flick of one elegant hand, the room was empty.

The queen rose in one languid motion, catlike. "Is it that time again? Foolish mortals wanting to steal my crown," She slowly walked down the steps, her dress moving around her tall thin frame like a waterfall. "I could kill Merlin but for the entertainment that it brings."

Hermione was terrified, but her brain still persisted in pointing out stupid minutiae. _How old is she if she talks about Merlin in the present tense? _She wished things like, say, plans for escape or weaknesses of scary high-powered faeries popped in her head with such regularity.

As Hermione stood frozen, the Queen was examining Draco closely, ignoring Hermione. She reached out one perfect hand and cupped his cheek lightly. "You look exactly like my Oisín…"

_Uh-oh, _Hermione thought as she saw Draco's eyes widen and his pupils dilate. His lips parted softly, and his breathing sped up. Her internal warning system, the one honed by years of living during dangerous times and surviving them, started blaring frantically.

"Would you like to stay here with me and be young forever, lovely one?"

_Mayday!_

Draco stood still, mesmerized, and slowly nodded.

_This is bad. Bad! _Hermione thought frantically. There was only one way she could remember to break the Lure of a Fae. It was a long shot, but she could think of no other plan. She was probably going to die either way, but at least she might spare Draco an eternity of slobbering ubiquitous obedience to the Queen.

So she kissed him.

He was a tall man, and she was a short woman, so she had to almost leap into his arms to reach his mouth.

His lips were surprisingly soft. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but as he always seemed to keep his lips in a grim line or a sneer it was actually somewhat difficult to get a firm grasp on their contours. Relaxed they were right now, his lips were warm, slightly wet and… well, rather nice, actually.

Closing her eyes, she sighed softly and consciously disengaged her brain. For this to work, to break the Fae's lure, they had to _really_ kiss. It was easier than Hermione thought it would be. She concentrated on the sharp contours of his mouth, the feel of his soft, short platinum hair beneath her fingers and the hard, lean body she was currently pressed against. She kissed him languidly, peppering him with slow, soft, teasing touches. Experimentally, she touched the tip of her tongue to his lips, snatching a taste of salt and whimpered softly.

That was when he started to kiss her back.

His body stopped being an immovable pillar and seemed to fold in on her, enfolding her in a tight embrace as his arms encircled her like vines. One hand firmly slid into the curls at the nape of her neck, controlling the depth of the kiss, while the other wound itself around her back, his thumb making little circles against her spine. Gripping her tightly, he did things to her mouth she didn't even think were _possible_.

It was the single best kiss of Hermione's life.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath a little. Opening her eyes, she looked into his surprised clear grey ones. Smiling a little at the lucidity there, she stroked his angular cheek, slightly roughened by stubble. Draco's eyes closed, and he licked his lips. Leaning forward, Hermione strained on her tip-toes to capture his lips again when the sound of slow clapping intruded into Hermione's kiss-drugged brain. Remembering their situation, and the very dangerous woman that currently occupied the room, she broke away, albeit more reluctantly than was rational.

Warily, she turned to look at the Queen, expecting retribution for her actions. One certainly didn't disenchant the Queen of Tír na nÓg's chosen victim without consequences.

Surprisingly, the Queen's dead expression had melted into one of terrifying delight. "Ah! What a sweet example of young love. You truly deserve the crown. Come."

She beckoned with one perfect arm, and with one quick look at Draco's flushed, dazed face Hermione grabbed his hand firmly. _I don't think I am even going to try to understand Fae logic. _Hermione thought, confused. At the touch of her hand, Draco's dazzled expression cleared once more, and he squeezed her hand tightly as they followed the unearthly creature.

000

Hermione twisted the lock of golden hair this way and that, admiring the way it shined in the sun. _Crown, indeed._

"Here, we'd better put that away before something happens to it." Draco opened the small lacquered chest, his mouth set in a grim line.

Hermione reluctantly placed the beautiful hair into the box, smiling wryly at the finality with which Draco snapped the box shut. _The better to place the memories into the past, I suppose. _"Well." She said awkwardly.

"Well," Draco seemed as tongue-tied as she was, for which Hermione was grateful. Right now she was in no mood to deal with his rotten attitude.

_If he doesn't want to mention the elephant in the room, I suppose I certainly won't. _The memory of his lips on hers was like a burn in her brain- it was going to take a lot of mental cartwheeling to forget it._ I'm not the one with the mountains of baggage to overcome. _Sighing wearily, she laid on the deck of the _Ouroboros. _She kicked off her trainers and stripped off her socks, wiggling her painted toes happily. Snakey twirled around her body in a circle joyfully a few times, until it settled by her hand, content to be stroked. Leaning back, Hermione petted the smooth wood of the snake and watched the isle of Tír na nÓg fade into the distance with little regret.

_It really is paradise. A bit of a boring paradise, but paradise nonetheless._

She fiddled with the magical compass on her breast absently, and wondered at the direction her life had taken. The new clue had popped into existence as soon as they stepped foot off of the magical island, but she was in no mood to work on puzzles. Later, perhaps. For now she just wanted to enjoy being alive.

"Granger."

Hermione glanced to her side to see that Draco was sitting next to her on the smooth wood of the deck and had rolled up the legs of his trousers, exposing muscular pale calves to the sun. His face was relaxed, and Hermione found that without the expression of haughty malice she was used to seeing on it, he was actually quite handsome.

"I want," He hesitated, playing with his signet ring nervously. "No, I need to thank you."

Hermione propped herself with one elbow, shading her eyes from the sun. Grinning cheekily, she said, "Whatever for?"

Draco glared at her. "Don't be daft. You saved my life back there and you know it."

Hermione shrugged and lay back down, smiling awkwardly. "Well, of course. Even though you're a slimy little ferret, you're still my partner in this mad scheme." She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I was responsible for your situation in the first place, so it was the right thing to do."

Draco was silent for a long while. Hermione closed her eyes, but she was preternaturally aware of his movements. He lay down beside her, and she could feel the heat of his body next to hers. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. It was almost… nice.

They lay together on the deck of the ship in silence for a long time, letting the silence and the bright mid-afternoon sunlight work its own subtle, healing magic. When Draco did speak, his voice was low and raspy, sending shivers down Hermione's spine.

"Thank you."

Hermione looked at Draco with a fragile new trust, and as their little ship sailed to their new destination a novel sense of optimism was born in her breast.

000


	2. The Second Task

**Title: **In These Dreams of Eternity

**Author: **Vashka

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits.

**Genre(s): **Action/Adventure, Romance

**Warning(s): **Mild Profanity, graphic sex

**Timeline: **EWE. Post-Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer**: This work of fiction is not intended to be a derivative work as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the Harry Potter books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a transformative work which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story. _A Journey To The Center of the Earth_ was written by Jules Verne and a few elements of this story owe their origins to him. Also, I had a specific image from the picture book _Dinotopia_, by James Gurney in my head for a good portion of the story, so some credit goes to him. And I borrowed something from Pirates of the Caribbean. See if you can find it.

000

_**Chapter Two: The Second Task**_

_**000**_

One Week Later

"It's just a bit creepy, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, but her voice echoed down the long pitch-black corridor, giving the impression of an uncomfortably vast space. The scent of earth, damp with the faint hint of decay, was overwhelming. She squinted in the dark, trying to make out the bend in the passage. Lifting her torch higher, she illuminated the walls of the cavern.

A thousand grinning skulls leered back.

"Do you think anyone else is down here?" Hermione said, somewhat nervously. She swallowed hard. "The wizarding burial ground must be around here somewhere and the compass has been leading us around this area for hours now. I just hope we don't get lost. _Again_." This last came out faintly accusatory.

Draco grunted in reply. "More light."

Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh.

Draco squinted at the map in the dim light. After a moment, he said, "Let me see that compass. I don't think you're using it correctly."

"Of _course_ I've been using it correctly, you great git!" Hermione huffed.

"Do you like being stuck down here with the skulls?"

"Fine!" Hermione nearly dropped the large torch in her effort to get the compass off one-handed.

"Of all the…" Draco rolled his eyes and carefully untangled the leather cord and slipping it over her head. His strong hands brushed Hermione's neck and cheeks lightly, and she was suddenly glad for the darkness to hide her gooseflesh and flushed cheeks and memories of kisses.

Draco's hand trembled slightly, and she wondered if he was remembering too. His hands lingered on her temples, his thumbs caressing the soft skin there slightly. He suddenly withdrew his hands and cleared his throat.

All business, Draco spent a few tense moments consulting with the map and compass and then shut it with a dramatic snap. He grabbed the torch and pointed down a previously unseen narrowly sloping corridor flanked by artfully arranged tibias. "The way to the tombs seems to be through that small gap over there. I'd rather not have to go this way, but there doesn't seem to be any other choice."

Hermione giggled.

Draco quirked a brow in question as they squeezed through the narrow opening in the bones, being careful not to touch them.

"It's nothing."

"What?"

"I just thought you'd never admit to your… delicacy. That's all."

"Mature. Very mature." Rolling his eyes, he cringed as his forearm brushed a wall of femurs, and still snickering, Hermione followed.

000

**Authors Note**: Yes, this chapter is over. No, you're not seeing things. This is where the 'experimental format' I was talking about earlier kicks in.


	3. The Third Task

**Title: **In These Dreams of Eternity

**Author: **Vashka

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits.

**Genre(s): **Action/Adventure, Romance

**Warning(s): **Mild Profanity, graphic sex

**Timeline: **EWE. Post-Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer**: This work of fiction is not intended to be a derivative work as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the Harry Potter books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a transformative work which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story. _A Journey To The Center of the Earth_ was written by Jules Verne and a few elements of this story owe their origins to him. Also, I had a specific image from the picture book _Dinotopia_, by James Gurney in my head for a good portion of the story, so some credit goes to him. And I borrowed something from Pirates of the Caribbean. See if you can find it.

000

Chapter Three: The Third Task

000

One Month Later

The forest was pretty strange, and Hermione had spent a lot of time in forests, so she considered herself something of an expert.

Camping for a year can do that to a person.

It was certainly an old forest, possibly the oldest that Hermione had ever seen. Moss grew thickly on the forest floor, creeping up the trees and giving the whole place a rather dead atmosphere. It was autumn in Germany, and the rich smell of decay permeated the forest. Hermione smiled at the soft crunchy sounds her boots made on the newly fallen leaves. That was normal, which made Hermione feel at ease. What set her instincts alight was the odd, absolute stillness. No birds, no deer, no squirrels. Not even an insect.

It made Hermione nervous.

And when Hermione was nervous, she talked.

"… Adam and Eve is an ancient story really, possibly one of the oldest in mankind, older than wizardkind, even. They lived in Eden- paradise really- until Eve was tempted by…"

"Will you please _be quiet_. If I wanted a lecture, I would have asked." There was a strange edge in his voice, something… off. Hermione wanted to blame it on the grim atmosphere of the odd forest, but something told her that wasn't it.

Hermione furrowed her brows at Draco's back as they picked their way through the forest. She didn't like the niggling _not knowing_, so became instantly defensive. "This all relates to the mission. Don't you want all of the facts? Don't you want to be more prepared than we were for the last mission?"

Draco stiffened at her pointed insinuation, and any sign of that _whatever_ was completely gone. Sneering, he said, "Well, than could you please tell me something relevant? Because Muggle history certainly won't help me get an apple from the Tree of Knowledge."

"You're such a bigot! I can't believe you still think that Muggles have nothing to offer wizards! I'll have you know-"

Draco stiffened and slapped a firm hand over her mouth. He pulled her struggling body behind a large oak tree and said, "Quiet."

They had carefully avoided all touching since the _incident_ in Tír na nÓg, but it only made each accidental brush of a hand, more significant, more electrifying. So the feel of Draco's hard, lean body against her back was too much sensation for her brain to process all at once.

"What is it?" Hermione whispered against his fingers.

His arms tightened around her, bringing her closer to him, his hipbones digging into her bottom, the flat hollows and planes of his torso easily distinguishable through their thin shirts. "_Granger_." He hissed into the shell of her ear, the warmth of his lips millimeters away from her skin, the soft blow of his breath causing unwanted shivers of delight to dance through her body.

Hermione shut up.

It was the Bulgarian team- the one that creeped Hermione out at Camelot. The large, sinister man that ogled her breasts was arguing with the short, nasty looking man who looked like he could slit his grandmother's throat and still smile. They didn't look smart enough to figure out the puzzles, but somehow they must have made it through the first two tasks. As soon as she glimpsed them, her internal alarm system sent off warning bells.

Hermione glanced upward to see what Draco was thinking and felt the knot in her stomach turn to ice. The planes of his face were taut and there was an expression there she hadn't seen since the war – eyes narrowed, lips thin and a hard, unforgiving glint in his eye.

Hermione swallowed.

Draco didn't like the Bulgarians either – worse, he seemed just as happy to have them close to him as she was. Knowing something of what he had faced in the past, she didn't want to think about the type of danger it would take to set off _his_ instincts either.

Quickly extricating herself from Draco's long limbs, she ignored her body's sense of loss. She reached into her bag and pulled out her little beaded evening bag.

"This isn't the time for evening wear, Granger."

Hermione ignored him, and rooted through the little purse frantically. _I know I stocked up, I just need to find it! _Restraining her shout of triumph, she pulled it out a large paper sack, and the Hand of Glory. The label on the sack read- _WWW Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder- New and Improved!_

Draco's face was stunned. "What else do you have in there?"

Hermione smirked and held a finger to her lips. They snuck up behind the pair of Bulgarians and threw a handful of the powder in their direction.

She grabbed Draco's hand in the sudden darkness, holding the Hand of Glory in front of them, her heart beating frantically, smiling at the shouts and curses behind them.

Hopefully this was the last they would see of the duo, as the danger they represented was something that Hermione didn't want to examine too closely.

But they were still headed in the right direction. Damn.

She crossed her fingers and prayed to Merlin that the trolls she noticed a few kilometers back attacked them.

000

The chapters will still be pretty short (sorry) until the last chapter, which is a whopping 40 pages in word. Basically, this story is complete and would have _never_ been finished without this format, and still be in my brain, sailing around. And it was written for a challenge, so I had a time limit on my muse, which definitely leans towards the epic. Maybe I will expand these middle tasks someday, but I really don't have the time right now! Hopefully everyone isn't _too_ upset.


	4. The Fourth Task

**Title: **In These Dreams of Eternity

**Author: **Vashka

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits.

**Genre(s): **Action/Adventure, Romance

**Warning(s): **Mild Profanity, graphic sex

**Timeline: **EWE. Post-Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer**: This work of fiction is not intended to be a derivative work as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the Harry Potter books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a transformative work which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story. _A Journey To The Center of the Earth_ was written by Jules Verne and a few elements of this story owe their origins to him. Also, I had a specific image from the picture book _Dinotopia_, by James Gurney in my head for a good portion of the story, so some credit goes to him. And I borrowed something from Pirates of the Caribbean. See if you can find it.

000

Chapter Four: The Fourth Task

000

Two and a Half Months Later

Hermione wished she had a pair of sunglasses. Preferably polarized.

Squinting against the blinding brightness, she barely made out the compass direction. She nodded towards the northeast part of the sprawling city. "This way."

"Which way?" Hermione was gratified that Draco was having the same optical difficulties, as this would make for less teasing later. Even if his teasing hadn't shifted into something that would have been amusing or even affectionate (sometimes) with Ron or Harry. Frustrated for once again over-analyzing the situation, she blinked hard against the harsh light.

She grabbed his hand, her sweaty palm sliding over his. Hermione felt somewhat self-conscious about perspiring so much, but figured it couldn't be helped. It was so bloody _humid_ in this godforsaken jungle. "_This _way."

"Who builds a city out of gold on the goddamn equator? It's asinine." Draco muttered as they stumbled in the direction of the temple.

Hermione laughed. "Just as asinine as a quest for an unknown Prize? We could be going to all this trouble for a hundred pounds of salt, you know."

"You're making even less sense that usual, Granger." Draco said in his most pompous snob voice. Hermione knew that if she could see his expression, his lips would be curled in a perfect sneer. She tried not to think about how comforting his hand felt and the firm, comfortable grip he kept on her fingers even as he mocked her.

Hermione shrugged and tugged on his arm again, her fingers sliding on his sweat-slicked flesh. "It was worth more than gold in the middle ages."

"I can see why," Draco muttered. "I'm beginning to hate the stuff myself."

Blessedly, the sun went behind a tiny wisp of a cloud and Hermione could _see _again.

The City of Gold was highly overrated, in her opinion. For one, the sun issue made it impossible to see where you were going. After the third time running into a wall of solid gold, she was over the awe of the shiny beauty of the city. Also, gold didn't make for the safest of walkways. From a distance, she had seen Neville and Luna climbing the side of one of the impressive golden pyramids, and saw Neville take a cringe worthy tumble down, down, down that lovely gold staircase. Third, gold was _heavy_. Draco laughed his arse off at Hermione's first and only attempt to open one of the golden doors.

"Don't touch that! You'll burn your hand off, and I can't magick it better without my wand."

Fourth, whoever decided a city made of _metal_ in a place that got this much sun must be a moron.

After her vision adjusted to the momentary cloud cover and the sunspots were finally gone, Hermione stole a glance at Draco. He did look rather dashing in a ferrety sort of way, she supposed. He wore loose clothing, like she did, and like hers; it was plastered to his body, the fine linen of his white shirt defining broad shoulders and deep pectorals...

Clearing her throat, Hermione looked up sharply, catching Draco's gaze on her gleaming, sweaty cleavage bared by the deep V in her shirt. Looking down quickly, she noted that sweat had made her thin shirt nearly transparent, and it was clinging to her curves like a lover. His gaze snapped up to hers and he quickly turned away.

_Surely… that wasn't a blush? _Thought Hermione in disbelief, sneakily trying to take a closer peek at his face.

_Not Malfoy!_

As she tried to determine if the color on Draco's face was a blush or sunburn, the powerful sun burned off the pathetic clouds, blinding Hermione once again. Stepping quickly towards the Temple, Hermione measured her breathing to try and slow down her racing heart.

_Surely not!_

000


	5. The Fifth Task, Interlude

000

**Chapter Five: The Fifth Task, Interlude**

000

**Three Weeks Later**

**000  
**

They were a little tipsy.

Hermione was, at least. She suspected Malfoy was flat-out drunk.

Congratulations were in order. They had escaped Shangri-La with the nectar from the Sacred Fig of nirvana. Getting into Shangri-La actually hadn't been that bad - a steep, exhausting two-day hike up the Himalayas, avoiding the nasty Bulgarians again – but it was getting out that was the true challenge.

Who would want to leave a place that made you _that_ happy?

Malfoy, it seemed.

"So Malfoy, are you really that grumpy or are you just immune to all happiness and laughter?"

"You know who's really immune to happiness and laughter – those bloody Bulgarians." Malfoy said, his tone vengefully amused.

Hermione giggled. "Did you see their faces when the monks wanted them to the kata of eternal happiness? They were _terrified_. Except for when Andrei was looking at my breasts. Again. Bloody pervert. We have to do something about those blokes. They're… not right." She wondered how concerned she should be that other than Neville and Luna, it was the Bulgarians they tended to run into most often. Shuddering, she drained the last of her fairy wine. Putting thoughts of creepy Bulgarians out of head, she peered at the bottle intently; she determined that there was enough for another glass. Humming to herself happily she poured the rest into her glass and told herself that she would stop before she got _too_ drunk.

Draco leaned on the back of his chair heavily, a picture of languid elegant ease, sipping firewhiskey. It had become sort of a ritual, she supposed. These post-quest celebrations were still awkward, but surprisingly enjoyable. When he wasn't being a prejudiced, insensitive git, Draco was actually quite entertaining. Funny and quick, he often had Hermione in tears with his droll observations.

But she still hated him. Of course.

Yet it was a soft, malleable hatred, tinged at the edges with amusement and a growing respect.

"I can't believe Neville let Luna lead him into that cave."

"I can," Draco said, "He may be able to deliver when the chips are down, but he is, and always will be, a Longbottom."

"A thousand-legged Sporkle," Hermione snorted as she shifted in her chair, drawing Draco's eyes to her breasts as her black tank tightened. "What a joke. At least they had their wands when that avalanche hit - scary stuff that."

"_I'm_ not afraid or anything," Draco boasted as he took another shot of Ogden's.

Hermione snorted into her wineglass. "And here I thought you were afraid of _snakes_."

"There were five giant snakes guarding that tree! Five! Each at _least_ the size of a Basilisk. Just because you knew some Muggle tale about apples and snakes does _not_ give you the right to be an uppity cow about it. Will you ever forget it?" Draco said, his shot glass spilling liquor onto the table with every gesture. His grey eyes were slightly glassy, but somehow he still made the haughty sneer convincing.

"Never!" Doing her best to imitate his posh drawl, Hermione mocked, "Granger, stop telling me that Muggle rubbish! You're useless! Oh, Granger _save_ me from the snake that you knew would be in the forest!" Hermione dissolved into giggles.

"You're not as funny as you think you are, you know." His expression was strange; his face set in a haughty sneer, but his eyes were warm, and almost… happy… behind the fever-brightness of the liquor.

"Oh, you know I am Malfoy," Hermione said, taking another long chug of wine. "I am _hilarious. _Yoooou,_" _Hermione grinned cheekily and leaned forward,unknowingly giving him another good look down her shirt into impressive cleavage, "Think I'm _hysterical_."

Hermione yawned and stretched widely– and noticed Malfoy goggling at her curves. She did look nice tonight, in her opinion. Her figure was shown off well by a trim sports tank and close-fitting shorts. Ankle boots and an elaborate golden bracelet (a Christmas gift from Ginny) completed the outfit, showing off her toned arms nicely. He couldn't even say anything bad about her hair - it was controlled in a tight braid going down her back, only a few tendrils escaping to frame her face.

She thought she looked sexy. And she _felt_ rather adventurous. Draco was probably drunk, which would make even a cow look sexy. And he hadn't exactly been around anyone else of the female persuasion recently, had he? Between the two, it offered a very plausible explanation for why he kept watching her mouth and the little quirk of _his_ mouth that appeared at the oddest moments.

_Should I give him a show? _Hermione smiled a little drunkenly and lifted her arms over her head in an exaggerated stretch. His expression morphed from one of haughty disinterest to one of drunken intent as soon as her short top rose to bare her trim waist. _Let him see what he's missing! _

Hermione smirked at his pole-axed look on his face. Leaning towards him, and giving him a slow, seductive smile, she said, "Night Malfoy. Don't sail us into any monsoons, if you please, I need my sleep."

As she left the table, weaving her way to the bathroom, she wondered if maybe she didn't hate him so much after all.


	6. The Sixth Task

**Title**: In These Dreams of Eternity

**Author**: Vashka

**Rating**: R

**Summary**: An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits.

**Disclaimer**: This work of fiction is not intended to be a derivative work as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the Harry Potter books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a transformative work which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story. A Journey To The Center of the Earth was written by Jules Verne and a few elements of this story owe their origins to him. Also, I had a specific image from the picture book Dinotopia, by James Gurney in my head for a good portion of the story, so some credit goes to him. And I borrowed something from Pirates of the Caribbean. See if you can find it.

000

**Chapter Six: The Sixth Task**

000

**Two Months Later**

"OUT OF THE WAY!" Draco bellowed.

Hermione rolled, but glanced up sharply as the huge red dragon's giant claws raked the ground where she had been crouching. Giving it a sharp _whack! _with her sword, she hissed as the Dragon's barbed tail swung around only to miss her head by inches.

He's _supposed to be the distraction and _I'm_ supposed to get the horn, _Hermione thought as she ran for her life,_ I told him this wouldn't work._ _The cave is only a few meters away. _Taking a deep breath, she sprinted as fast as her short legs could take her. _I can make it! _

The Atlantean Dragon shrieked a challenge at the small creature trying to invade its lair. Draco flew around the dragon, buzzing its head, attempting to catch its attention.

"DON'T USE YOUR WAND!" Draco roared, precariously perched on his broom. Flying right under the Atlantean's nose, he startled the dragon enough that it seemed to momentarily forget the girl running on the ground.

"I'm NOT!" Hermione screamed, giving her position away to the angry beast that seemed to hate her. _Damn it, not smart Granger! Merlin, I want to use my wand. Shit. This is not good. _

Almost at the cave, Hermione zigzagged her way around piles of rocks and gutted animal carcasses, her sword and shield awkwardly banging against her legs and torso, leaving large bruises. Almost there, some vestigial survival instinct caused Hermione to look up, and she gasped at the wall of flame headed her way. Ducking behind her tall shield, Hermione prayed to every deity she knew. _Please, let me live. I don't want to be burned to a crisp. Please… _

"HERMIONE!"

The tremendous heat receded, and Hermione miraculously was still alive and not maimed for life. She rushed into the cavern and grabbed a small horn from the pile of molted skin and horns near the entrance. She spied a small clutch of eggs at the back of the cave, and rolled her eyes. _Figures. Of all the dragons in Atlantis we choose the protective mummy. _

"HERMIONE! I CAN'T KEEP THIS UP MUCH LONGER!"

_He used my first name. _Hermione couldn't stop smiling.

"STOP YOUR WOOLGATHERING, MORON, AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!"

Hermione grinned and flung herself into the fray. She had never felt more alive.

000

**Notes: **Story is almost done! Just one more chapter (and that one about thirty pages long). I have to go through and edit it once more, but I'll probably get it out tomorrow or the day after.


	7. Quest's End

**Title**: In These Dreams of Eternity

**Author**:Vashka

**Rating**: R

**Summary**: An adventure as old as Merlin. An unknown Prize. One magical ship. Exotic locations. Extreme danger. Two enemies. No wands. Destiny waits.

**Disclaimer**: This work of fiction is not intended to be a derivative work as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the Harry Potter books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a transformative work which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story. A Journey To The Center of the Earth was written by Jules Verne and a few elements of this story owe their origins to him. Also, I had a specific image from the picture book Dinotopia, by James Gurney in my head for a good portion of the story, so some credit goes to him. And I borrowed something from Pirates of the Caribbean. See if you can find it.

000

**Chapter Seven: Quest's End**

000

**Chapter Notes: **I hope you enjoyed my fluffy little story. I tried to make it as entertaining as possible! I had fun experimenting with the format, otherwise this beast of a story would have never been completed. Enjoy the conclusion!

000

**A Few Days Later**

The competition for the Prize narrowed considerably. Draco and Hermione, now on their way to the seventh Task, only had one other team to contend with - the Bulgarians. They had seen the other teams fall, heard about it through rumors and through the section in the _Daily Prophet _that kept tabs on the Quest.

Something about them still made Hermione shudder after all of these months. Maybe it was the way Andrei leered at her breasts. Or maybe it was the deadness in Gavril's eyes. Hermione's instincts had been honed by war and challenge, and she trusted them. Her skin crawled whenever she was around the other team, and that bothered her.

Hermione studied the map carefully one Sunday morning as Draco filled the sails. Sipping her hot tea, she stared at the bright gold signaling their new destination – the North Pole.

Hermione bit her lip and judged that it would take them a good two days to get to the mystical island of Frisland in the Artic Circle. It would be an unwelcome change from their current location off of Morocco, but there wasn't anything that they could do about it. She only hoped that the old ship could make it through the icy waters. It was summertime in the Northern Hemisphere, what little that meant in the chilly waters of the Arctic.

She was carefully plotting their course when Draco stomped down the stairs into the main cabin. His blond hair now fell well below his ears, and was windswept from his time on deck. His fair skin sported a faint flush from the early morning chill, highlighting the stormy grey of his eyes. He grunted his good morning and shuffled to the kitchenette tiredly to serve himself the breakfast Hermione made and to pour a generous mug of tea. He rolled up the sleeves of his navy blue jumper, exposing pale, heavily muscled forearms lightly sprinkled with blond hair that she was helpless _not _to notice lately.

Worse, Hermione caught herself staring at his graceful hands as they served his breakfast and blushed. She looked away and took a large gulp of tea, hopefully hiding her red face from his gaze.

_This could be a problem_, Hermione thought, _I wasn't supposed to want to jump my partner's bones every time I see his bare feet. Which is everyday. _

She supposed that a male and female could go on adventures together and resist attraction. But with Harry, repeatedly facing danger together, saving each other's lives, sharing joy and frustrations had led to a bond of deep friendship. Certainly she had never really considered Harry as anything other than a brother.

And, strangely enough, Draco and Hermione bonded. She couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment it happened - certainly it was sometime after the first Task. They played Exploding Snap on quiet evenings floating on the sea, and argued about the wisdom of Eldric the Elder or about his passion for Ancient Runes. She found that she actually didn't hate him. She didn't hate him quite a bit.

And Merlin, he was easy on the eyes.

She was fascinated by the way his trousers clung to his tight arse as he manipulated the sails of the _Ouroboros_. She was drawn by the way he bit his bottom lip as they poured over their books as they attempted to figure out the next Task. She couldn't look away when his grey eyes snapped as he figured out an important piece of the puzzle.

Not to mention that she slept in the bunk next to him for eight months. Knowing intimately the sound of his sighs and moans while sleeping and the _feel_ of him in the room at night would drive any woman round the bend.

She was afraid that she was beginning to _like_ the bastard. If just a little bit. And she wasn't certain it was entirely cabin-fever inspired attraction that was encouraging that niggling flutter of affection.

As Draco padded over to the small table with his breakfast, Hermione noticed his feet were bare again. To her horror, she felt herself blushing. Swiftly taking her gaze from his feet, she focused on the map.

"We're currently off the coast of Morocco. We should make it to the island in a day, if the winds steer us right." Hermione said, determined to keep her mind off of Draco, off of the casual intimacy of bare feet and the way her stomach did somersaults in his presence.

Draco grunted in agreement. "If the weather holds. I don't want to be trapped in a storm like the one off of India anytime soon."

Hermione shuddered at the memory. "Let's hope not. I don't think that this is the hurricane season, but I can listen to the wireless tonight to see if there is anything brewing."

Draco nodded and dumped a little sugar in his tea. Reaching over Hermione's shoulder, he snagged a thick tome from the stack behind her, the bare skin of his forearm brushing her cheek. His scent- sea salt, soap, and man- lingered in the air. Hermione's mouth went dry.

Clearing her throat, she said, "What do you think we're facing?"

"I don't rightly know. Headed to that part of the world... something Norse, perhaps? The clue is particularly ambiguous this time. Lucky we have the map to show up the general direction." He pulled the slip of parchment out of the small chest, "_Quest's end is near at an island in the North- under, under to the city of eternity." _He frowned as he sipped his tea, "I'm not sure this could be any more cryptic."

"The island is near Greenland. It's a possibility." Hermione tapped her fingers. "But it doesn't feel right." She glanced up and found Draco scrutinizing her carefully. She fought down her blush. "Hopefully no Dragons this time, eh?" She teased, hoping that she took his attention away from her attraction.

Draco made a face. "I don't know how you enjoyed the Atlantean Dragon preserve as much as you did. Terrible creatures."

"Afraid of your namesake?"

Draco raised a brow. "Certainly. I have a healthy respect for something fifty times my size and that wants to have me for breakfast. What's your excuse?"

"After my brush with the Dragon in Gringotts, I've never been able to look at them the same way. I'm scared of them, but I can control it."

Draco shook his head, but smiled. "Gryffindors."

"Sneaky Slytherins just wouldn't understand." Hermione quickly dusted the crumbs of toast off of her fingers, and started to gather the remains of her breakfast plates. "Would you like a warm-up?" she asked, extending her hand.

"Yes, please." As Draco gave her his chipped mug, their hands brushed ever so slightly. A sharp tingle started from her hand and settled deep in her belly, and a fierce flush rose from her chest. Draco quickly snatched his hand away and cradled it against his chest. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "A cuppa would be lovely, thank you."

Hermione whirled around and marched to the stove, her face on fire.

_This is unbearable, _she thought wildly, _This has to end. The challenge, the sexual tension, all of it. Soon. _

000

That night, Hermione stood outside, watching the stars from the deck. She felt a nudge against her foot and glanced down. Snakey looked at her hopefully, nudging her foot again.

Smiling, she sat on the cold wood, tickling the wooden snake on the chin. "Sometimes I think you're better than a real pet. Don't tell Crookshanks."

She spent a better part of an hour staring at the stars, alone with her thoughts. A strong breeze brushed past, and Hermione shivered, wishing she had worn her cloak.

Just as she couldn't stand it anymore, Draco walked up the stairs.

His brows jumped in surprise as he saw her by the bow. He frowned, disapproving, as he took in her light clothing and something glittered in his gaze for a moment. Then he dropped his heavy cloak around her shoulders, and Hermione snuggled into its warmth gratefully.

As Hermione watched, he lifted his arms and filled the sails, his arms dancing. When he was through, he didn't go downstairs as expected; instead, he stood next to her, leaning against the railing, gazing at the stars.

After a long, awkward silence, he said, "Have you been out here awhile?"

Hermione nodded. "It reminds me of Astronomy class at Hogwarts. But even in Scotland the stars weren't this clear."

Draco grunted in agreement and sat next to her on the bench, his warmth palpable. The awareness of him grew into a living thing, stretching her nerves to a breaking point. She wondered if he also thought about long-ago kisses and stolen touches, or if she was still just that annoying swot from school.

When she couldn't stand it anymore, she stood. Draco stood too, his large body dangerously close to hers.

"Thanks for the cloak." She reluctantly started to unwrap herself, but Draco halted her with a gesture.

"Keep it."

Hermione looked at her feet suddenly shy. She gathered her courage and glanced at his face, his expression unreadable in the deep darkness. "Thanks."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She hesitated at the stairs. "Goodnight, Draco."

She left him on the deck, his lonely figure silhouetted by the stars.

000

Hermione woke suddenly. She had been deeply asleep, dreaming highly erotic and highly disturbing dreams about Malfoy, the beach of Tír na nÓg and massage oil. Blinking wearily in the darkness, she assessed that she didn't need to use the W.C. so she rolled over onto her belly and snuggled deeper into her downy pillows. She listened carefully and picked out Draco's quiet breathing over the soft sounds of the waves. Smiling sleepily, she listened as she slowly drifted back asleep...

That was when she heard it.

_Creeeeeaaak_.

Hermione was instantly wide awake, her body on high alert.

It was probably what saved her.

A sweaty hand clamped on her upper arm, another one over her mouth. A raspy, heavily accented voice said, "We meet again. You won't get away so easily this time. Now I have the tricks."

Hermione, terrified, blindly threw back her elbow in the darkness, connecting solidly to flesh with a _crunch_.

The man reared back, dropping his grip and shouting curses in Bulgarian.

"Draco!" Hermione shrieked, "Wake up!" Twisting out of his grip, she dropped out of her bunk and landed hard on the floor the sheets tangling around her ankles. Rolling quickly out of the way of the Bulgarian's heavy boots, she leapt for the door. She almost made it, touching the cool metal of the doorknob, but was pulled back by a brutal yank on her hair, the force pulling out a great chunk of it. Tears sprung to her eyes at the sharp pain, and her hands rose automatically to claw at the Bulgarian's fierce grip.

She heard Draco shout something, and the lights came on as she concentrated on wriggling out of Andrei's grasp. Blood dripped steadily out of his nose, and his eyes flashed furiously. "You'll pay for that, bitch!"

Terrified, Hermione lashed out with her bare foot, connecting squarely with his groin. At the same time, Draco smashed the brute on the head with a lamp.

Andrei released her hair, and Hermione felt a sharp rush of relief. Staggering, she leaned against the door and caught her breath for a few precious moments.

"Hermione! I'll deal with this prick, you find the other arsehole!" Draco shouted. Hermione, spurred into action again, ignored her pain and ran out of the bedroom to the common space. A quick assessment proved that the other Bulgarian was not present below deck.

Running to the kitchen, Hermione grabbed a large carving knife. _Merlin, I wish I had my wand. Those two idiots wouldn't stand a chance against me if I did._

She contemplated going back to the bedroom to get it - at this point the contest loomed in far second to survival. However, Andrei was still in the bedroom, between her and her wand, so the chances of her rescuing it with that fistfight still going on were next to none.

Gavril and Andrei obviously attacked the _Ouroboros_ because they were worried about the competition for the Prize. _I should have known,_ Hermione thought while creeping up the stairs as quietly as she could, _I should have done something to prevent this._

Reaching the door, she pushed it open as carefully as she could, praying the hinges didn't squeak. Petrol fumes rushed into the cabin, the smell overpowering and making Hermione a little lightheaded, and increased her growing dread. Taking short, deep breaths through her mouth, she crept onto the deck as soundlessly as possible.

Gavril was emptying a large can of petrol onto the deck and sails, and few empty cans already lay scattered around his feet.

Hermione's heart froze. _The whole boat could go up. Surely the _Ouroboros_ has magical protections against this sort of thing. _She adjusted her grip on the knife, hoping it didn't slide too much in her suddenly sweaty hands. _Where the hell is Malfoy? _

Snakey was agitated- swirling around the small man's feet in tight circles, trying to trip him up, his wooden tongue flicking furiously. When Gavril went to empty the can onto the aft sail, he tripped over the large snake. Making a split-second, adrenalin-fueled, probably stupid decision, Hermione attacked.

The man was small, but he moved like he knew his way around a fight. She knew her way around a wizarding duel, and she would bet she could take him in a match of magic and wits any day of the week. But a physical fight?

_Those self-defense classes had better pay off, _Hermione thought as she stalked closer, _Or else I'm toast. _

Gavril must have heard something because he looked up, dead blue eyes wide with surprise. He threw the now-empty can at her, and Hermione, still barefoot on the now-slippery deck, almost lost her footing and skewered herself. Regaining some of her poise, she raised her knife and glared at him, desperately bracing herself mentally for the inevitable showdown.

He slipped into an easy defensive stance. Hermione's gut clenched.

Stalemate.

Suddenly, Gavril leapt up, screaming in pain, clutching his foot, cursing loudly.

_Snakey_! The wooden snake circled the little man, its wooden teeth stained with blood. Hermione, sensing her opportunity, rushed in. She maneuvered behind him, holding her blade against his neck. "Freeze, arsehole."

"What do you want?" Hermione said, panting heavily.

Gavril remained stubbornly silent.

Hermione pressed the sharp knife harder against his pale throat. "You know what? Fuck that. I don't care. Just get your friend and get the hell off of_ my boat_."

Gavril swallowed hard. "You are a woman. Soft. You will do nothing."

Hermione smiled, showing lots of teeth. "You know _nothing_ about me and what I've done. See if I won't. See if I won't skewer you, and then toss your friend overboard without a life raft."

She pressed the knife harder into Gavril's thin neck. A thin trickle of blood dripped down, staining his shirt. She watched him intently, and saw his expression start to waver. She allowed herself a brief flicker of triumph. _He's going to surrender! _

Suddenly, hearing footsteps on the stairs, Hermione automatically glanced at the door, her attention wavering from the dangerous man at her feet for a split second. Twisting away, gracefully, Gavril knocked the knife at his throat away, grinning maliciously. Hermione backed up defensively, adjusting her grip on the knife, her anger growing, growing, until it felt like a living thing.

She couldn't take it anymore. Her body became a focus for her rage, and she felt her magic answer in response. She was so tired of this bullshit. _I _want_ my _wand_! _

Suddenly, she saw fear spark into Gavril's eyes, and she was confused. He was staring at her hands. _Why is he suddenly afraid of the kitchen knife? _

Curious, Hermione glanced down, stunned by the blue electricity she saw sparking there. _Wandless magic! _

Gavril slowly backed away towards the railing of the ship, his expression suddenly wary.

"Get back here," Hermione hissed, "I'm not done with you yet."

Putting on an air of self-assurance, as if lightening sparking from her fingertips were an everyday occurrence, she casually strolled in his direction. Lifting her hand, she said, "Call off your friend, bastard. Or I'll fry you."

He held up small roll of paper. "Ah, but do you want to destroy this? I don't think so, Miss Granger. I do not believe that you have enough control to destroy me but save this."

Hermione gasped. _The map! That bastard! _Hermione forcibly calmed herself down, and she felt the levels of innate magic decrease to safer levels, the magical blue lightening dissipating from her fingers with a puff of smoke.

Gavril smirked. "That is what I thought." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

"No!" Hermione gasped, lunging at him with the knife desperately.

He dodged gracefully, and flicked on the little lighter, which glowed bright and menacing. _That's no ordinary flame, _Hermione thought, _That's Fiendfyre!_

Feeling sick, Hermione lashed out, attempting to wrestle the lighter out of his hand, or to knock it into the sea, _anything_ to get it away from the boat.

Gavril, with a grin, simply tossed the lighter at the sail, which caught fire immediately.

"No!" Hermione screamed.

As if to mock her, Andrei's balding head appeared from below deck, and her already heaving stomach dropped to her feet. _Draco! _

Andrei was bleeding from multiple gashes, and his right eye was almost swollen shut. Walking with a definite limp, he hobbled up the stairs slowly, cursing loudly in a mixture of Bulgarian and English.

"Ah, my friend, you went for the honey before smoking out the bees. Did you not think you would be stung?"

Hermione rather resented being talked about as if she weren't there. "Where is Draco, you bastard!"

"He is not dead. Yet." Andrei smiled then, terrible and cold. "Come with us, woman, if you want to live. We will promise not to kill you."

"I'd rather die," Hermione hissed, holding her knife up defensively, prepared for another fight.

"The time for that has passed," Gavril snapped, "Come." He stepped to the railing, and gestured impatiently for Andrei to follow.

Andrei glared at him, mutinous. "She will pay for this." He gestured to his bleeding face.

Gavril gestured to the growing fire, coughing. "Andrei! Get over here- we have what we need. Do you wish to die for your revenge?"

Andrei shot him a dirty look, but slowly grinned as he realized her situation. Trapped on a burning ship. No escape but a wand that was downstairs in an inferno. Either way, out of the quest. Hermione could almost see the sadistic gears in his mind tick. _She's going to die here. _A slow smile spread over his face revealing rotten teeth. _Perfect. _

"Goodbye, pet. We parted too soon." He blew a kiss, and disappeared over the side of the ship.

Hermione was glad that they were gone. _Two less idiots to worry about. Now where is _my_ idiot… _

Frantic, Hermione ignored the growing fire and rushed below deck. _Draco, Draco, Draco,_ Her mind chanted, _You had better be all right, because I am going to kill you if you aren't! _

In the few moments between the Bulgarians leaving and Hermione streaking to the cabin, she must have had a hundred visions of Draco lifeless or dismembered. The short distance to the cabin seemed like an eternity. She kicked open the half closed door, and the scene inside was like a punch to the gut.

Draco lay on the floor, motionless.

For a moment, Hermione stood, frozen, convinced he was dead.

Rushing to his side and touching his cheek, she felt her spirit stretched to the breaking point when he didn't respond. "Malfoy? Malfoy! Wake up! WAKE UP!"

She reached for her wand on the nightstand to revive him, quest be damned, when she heard him groan.

"Malfoy?" She turned, finding Draco half-sitting, half-slumped over, holding his head.

"Draco! Oh, Draco, I thought you were dead, you great git!" Hermione scolded, cradling his face in her hands, assessing his pupils, and cataloguing his injuries. "Don't do that ever again."

Draco sneered, but the effort seemed weak. "I feel fine, thanks for asking."

Smelling smoke, Hermione remembered the urgency of their situation. "Draco, there's a fire! We need to get out of here!" Grabbing their wands and her beaded bag she rushed out of the bedroom into the common area. Looking around frantically for things she needed to save, she stuffed the compass and the other contents of the table into her purse.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco snag the chest containing the Prize items. Coughing, feeling lightheaded, she grabbed his hand and tugged his sore body to the deck.

It was like walking into Hell.

The fiendfyre had spread from the sails to the deck, the magical flames consuming the magical ship as if it were paper. Hermione caught Draco's eye, and saw his fear, and horrific visions of the Room of Requirement flashed through her brain. They couldn't stop it, even if they used their wands.

"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, "Is there a life raft?"

Draco frowned, face grim in between bouts of coughing. "I'm not sure."

"Not sure! How can you not be _sure_?" Hermione screamed, grabbing her wand, preparing to apparate them both. "It's basic safety, you idiot! Are the Malfoys…"

Hermione's rant was interrupted by a hard nudge against her foot. Snakey looked at her, and then slithered away to the aft deck. Deciding that she would look for one more minute before apparating, she yanked on Draco's hand and plunged after the wooden snake.

At the very aft section of the _Ouroboros_, Snakey circled a ladder that Hermione was sure had never been there before. A small dinghy was bobbing in the water, connected to the larger ship by a thin rope.

"Draco, there's a life raft!"

Draco scrambled down the ladder to the boat, and Hermione quickly followed. She glanced upwards, to see Snakey watching them, surrounded by flames.

"Goodbye," She said quietly. The snake looked at her solemnly as the raft lowered. She craned her neck as they rowed away, and when she could no longer see it, a sob broke from her throat involuntarily.

The Arctic wind was frigid, and the water was colder. Hermione turned her face from the ship and fumbled with her beaded purse. She scrounged around and pulled out layer after layer of warm clothing, keeping her mind deliberately blank.

She met Draco's eyes briefly, but looked away quickly. The devastation there was too familiar, too cutting. "Get dressed. You don't want to freeze."

Hermione pulled on her layers automatically, numbly by the light of the burning ship. It was awkward to try to pull on her clothes in the small craft, especially with Draco doing the same, but they managed it without too much water sloshing over the side. She could barely tie her boots her hands were shaking so badly - whether from numbness or shock, she couldn't rightly say. When she was done, she tucked her beaded purse into her pocket and zipped it shut. She adjusted her scarf and was surprised to find her face wet.

_Tears_, Hermione thought numbly. _I'm crying. _

The _Ouroboros _was burning.

They could have stopped the Bulgarians with their wands, could have prevented the fire from starting, but that would break the thrice-damned _rules_.

And so they watched the _Ouroboros_, their ship, their home, be destroyed.

000

They survived to landfall, if barely.

Hermione liked to think that it was the rage that kept her going.

Draco attempted to use the sea magic to propel the dinghy like the _Ouroboros, _but the little raft wasn't innately magical. It worked, to some extent, but the pathetic effort still made it necessary to row and row and row until Hermione's arms and back went beyond pain and into numb. So she could row more. She wanted to quit and apparate herself to a tropical island where she could sip fruity drinks and a masseuse could rub the knots out of her back for hours.

But her stubbornness and his nastiness kept them on task.

As she paddled, her wand lay heavy against her side, taunting her with its presence and the comfort it represented. She felt herself reach for it over and over, but something stopped her every time. She suspected it was stupidity.

Soon, the burning in her arms left no room for thinking.

It was almost a surprise when they sighted land, and their exhausted, freezing bodies gave one last final burst of energy needed to make it to the sweet, frozen land.

All Hermione wanted to do was collapse, but she knew that if she did, she would probably fall asleep on the icy tundra and die. Somehow, she dredged up the willpower to care.

_If there is anything I'm good at, it's camping._ Hermione thought. _And if there's anything I hate more, I haven't discovered it yet. _Still, she sent a silent prayer to Merlin for the foresight in grabbing the beaded purse off of the nightstand. Likely, the supplies would save their lives tonight. _If I can ever get this damn tent sent up, that is. _

Finally finding the trusty tent at the bottom of the purse, she quickly pulled it out and cleared a space for it on the frozen ground while Draco secured the boat. Setting it up efficiently, she was absurdly grateful to get out of the biting wind and into some sort of shelter by the time she was finished.

The tent sent a fierce wave of nostalgia through Hermione. The smell of canvas and smoke sent her back years. Suddenly, the banked terror of the night's events swamped her, and dizzily, she sat down next to the fireplace on a soft, well-worn chair. _Harry… Ron… I need you._

She missed her friends. She missed her parents. She missed her comfortable, _happy _life.

And she wished she had someone to talk to besides the _giant prick_ she was currently ignoring.

Dashing the tears away stubbornly, she noted the extensive supply of wood and fire-starting equipment and smiled sadly. _Always prepared, weren't we? A good thing too. _

Gathering wood, paper and sticks, Hermione set about starting a fire the muggle way. _Back then we were fighting for our lives against an evil tyrant. I'm here with a great prat and I almost died for an unknown Prize. Is this really worth it?_

Soon, Hermione had a cheery little fire going in the grate. Taking off her mittens, she held her cold red hands near the flames and groaned with pleasure at the warmth. Draco was still snubbing her, but Hermione could see him looking at the fire with naked longing. When Hermione faced him directly, his face was set in an expression of cool disdain.

_Fine, _Hermione thought bitterly. _Let him freeze. I'm sure the Malfoy pride will keep his fat head warm tonight. _

Hermione finished with the fire, and scrounged in her purse for something edible while waiting for her feet to thaw. _I'm sure I have rations in here somewhere. I'm certainly never subsisting on berries and mushrooms again, not that they even exist this far north._

Finding her case of freeze-dried food, Hermione set to reconstituting a brown substance that she supposed was some sort of beef stew. _Just add water- instant food. _Hermione grimaced. _Delicious._

As she was setting to cooking, Draco inched over to the fire, biological function winning against his pride. They sat in silence, studiously ignoring the other until the silence grew and grew and grew into a living thing.

Their reconstituted dinner was tasteless and barely edible, but both were so hungry that they didn't notice. The food was hot, which was all that mattered.

Hermione began to feel the heat seep into her bones, and her fingers finally returned to normal sensation after a bout of tingly pain. Heaving a sigh of relief that no frostbite had set in, she shed her jacket and gloves. Glancing across the fire, she noted that Draco has shed his outer layers, and even though she was furious at the git, she was gratified that he also seemed to be recovering from the attack.

Then she noticed the blood.

Horrified, Hermione's gaze was riveted to his rusty red shirtsleeve.

"Malfoy, you're _hurt!_"

Draco looked at his arm blearily, clearly not caring. "Suppose I am. Happened during the fight- that bastard Gavril had a knife I wasn't expecting." His mouth twisted bitterly. "If I had than maybe the Ouroboros wouldn't have… wouldn't have been destroyed."

He sank into brooding silence once more, rubbing his arm, staring at the fire, his eyes bleak.

"Well, don't rub at it!" Hermione cried and Draco sent her a dirty look. Ignoring him, she rooted around in her purse and found her first aid kit. "Here."

Kneeling beside his chair, she gently touched his shoulder. "I'd like to see it, I think I can help."

"I don't need any more of your _help." _Draco sneered_,_ "Haven't you done enough?"

Hermione's spine stiffened, and she blinked, hard, to stop the sudden rush of tears. "Fine! See if I care when you die of infection! I don't give a damn anymore! You and your stupid contest can _go to hell_." She dropped her first aid kit with a loud bang and stormed away to the other side of the fire. Fumbling with her clothes, she pulled out her wand, the familiar length of vine feeling so warm and so _right_ in her hand.

Draco's eyes widened. "Wait!"

But Hermione's fury wouldn't be placated, and she snarled at him, prepared to apparate.

Draco lunged for her, his arms wrapping around her torso, snakelike.

"Let me go!"

"Not until you listen, you daft cow!"

Hermione tried to squirm out of his grasp, but his hold was too strong. _Fine, _she thought, _I'll just apparate us both out of here. _She gripped her wand tighter, prepared for the swift swish and flick that would send them both back to England.

Draco's hand slipped down to hers, over her wand, staying her movements. "Just listen, please." His eyes, open for once, searched hers. "Please."

Although she kept her expression angry and closed, she was shocked, by both his tone and his words. Hermione would have sworn up and down that Malfoy didn't know the word "Please." Eventually, she lowered her wand. "Fine. You have two minutes."

"I don't know where to start," Draco sat down on the worn sofa heavily. "Everything I've ever done has been defined by other people. My parents, the dark lord. Everything I've ever done has been defined by the expectations of others."

Hermione stood still, stunned by the confession. She was expecting a trite apology or a brief explanation of his anger, blaming it on grief for the lost _Ouroboros_. Not this. This was _real_. Malfoy uncensored. She tucked her wand away and sat by his side, listening.

"No one has ever cared about my wants or needs. I was just a tool for them to use. My parents loved me, but they never really considered what was best for me." He laughed bitterly. "Just what was best for the Malfoy dynasty."

It made a certain sort of sense, Hermione supposed. She always knew that the Malfoys were close, but also noticed that their expectations for the one and only Malfoy heir were certainly overwhelming.

"When the invitation came, I thought that it was an answer to everything. I wanted to do something for myself for once, something great, something good. I wanted to try to make my name echo throughout history, for people to associate the name Malfoy with something other than darkness."

"And when I found out _you_ were my partner," He trailed off, looking at the fire.

"I know," Hermione said softly, "You were severely disappointed."

"No," Draco said. He looked up, and Hermione felt the weight of his gaze, the hunger in it burn through her body, making her dizzy. "Quite the opposite."

Hermione couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. They sat in pregnant silence for a long moment, staring at each other, until finally Hermione noticed a fresh crimson staining Draco's shirt, she said, "You're bleeding."

Draco looked down, "So I am."

"Here." Kneeling, she picked up her First Aid kit from the floor, and opened it. Finding some antibacterial wash and some sterile gauze, she set them next to him on the sofa. She firmly fixed her gaze on his shirtsleeve and said, "Take off your shirt."

There was a long pause before Hermione heard the rustle of clothing. She felt heat rise to her cheeks as Draco painfully worked the sweater over his head, but she was too mortified to help him.

All embarrassment was forgotten as the jagged wound was revealed. Stretching from bicep to elbow, it was long and thin, and leaking blood profusely. "Malfoy!" She gasped, you're such an idiot. You should have had this looked at immediately after it happened."

Draco shrugged, his muscles rippling with the movement in ways that left Hermione breathless. When she looked up, his grey eyes were still focused on her intently. "What good would it have done on the dinghy? Besides, after awhile in the cold I couldn't even feel it."

Huffing about the stupidity of men, she set about cleaning and dressing the long cut. "It doesn't look like it needs to be stitched up, thank Merlin."

She concentrated on her task in comfortable silence, happy to have something to occupy her thoughts, and happy that his wound wasn't more serious. "All done," Hermione smiled as she smoothed the bandage, "I think you'll be fine. Are you in any pain?"

She made the mistake of looking up.

He was watching at her again, this time with an expression of hard, naked longing. His bare torso gleamed in the firelight, and a lock of blond hair had fallen onto his forehead into his eyes. One hand reached for her, the soft pads of his fingers lightly brushing her soft, full lips and up one cheekbone to toy with a springy curl.

Her mouth went dry.

Licking her lips, her breath sped up and time slowed down as his mouth slowly found hers.

It was just as good as she remembered, if not better. Her memories of that wild, adrenalin-fueled kiss were wonderful and thrilling, but it was nothing compared to this slow exploration of mouths. There was no initial hesitation, no lingering embarrassment as Draco's lips caressed hers, slowly stoking the fire between them into a red-hot blaze.

Their kisses grew feverish and wild, and soon the careful studies of lips and tongue turned to a frenzy of lust. Hermione found herself laying below him on the sagging sofa, his heavy weight pressing her into the cushions. She could feel his heavy erection through their clothing, and it made the soft, feminine parts of her body quiver with anticipation.

His hands groped wildly, tugging on layers of winter gear. While Hermione's palms ran greedily up and down the planes of Draco's bare back, her fingers delving down the top of his trousers to massage the curve of his bum. Draco gave a pained groan and his head fell down to rest upon her forehead.

"Minx," he growled, digging one hand into the curls at the nape of her neck and jerking her chin upwards. Licking his way up the smooth column, his mouth a brand, he chuckled darkly at her ecstatic whimpers while he worked on her clothes.

Soon, Draco grew frustrated with the muggle zippers and fastenings of Hermione's jacket and salopettes. Cursing floridly against her skin, he tugged on the jacket's zipper again, getting it stuck on a bit of her scarf.

Hermione giggled and caught his hands. Kissing the palms, lingering at the soft bit of flesh between the thumb and wrist, she tasted salt and smoke of the fire and a bit of something that she thought might be unique to his skin. She scooted out from under him and said, "Let me do it."

She took her time disrobing, peeling off her many layers carefully. If she had thought that stripping off her boots and ski trousers to her practical underthings would be less sexy than stripping to sexy lingerie, the heated look in Draco's eyes dispelled her of the notion. Soon, she was naked, fully exposed to his eyes for the first time.

She shivered a little, both with excitement and with the chill that still lingered in the tent. She sidled a little closer to the fire, enjoying the way Draco drank in the movements with his eyes.

Suddenly nervous, she turned away from him, presenting him with a lovely image of her pert arse and the feminine curve of her back outlined by the flickering fire. She heard the sounds of shuffling and clothing being quickly removed. When she leaned over to add a few more logs to the fire, she heard a muffled curse and she smiled.

She didn't turn as she heard heavy footsteps approach, nor when she felt his hot hands on her waist. He tugged on her forcefully, bringing them skin-to-skin for the first time, and Hermione melted over him like butter. His skin was hot, burning hot, and so very, very male. Lean and hard, he enfolded her into a protective embrace, surrounding her and filling her senses until there was nothing in the universe but him.

He pushed her curls out of the way, and kissed her neck again, this time worrying at the muscle at the joining of her neck and shoulder with his teeth. His hands made little swirling caresses on her abdomen, making larger and larger whirls until he brushed the bottoms of her breasts lightly with his thumbs.

She gasped, and Draco chuckled. "Like that?" He brushed again, harder, causing Hermione's nipples to pucker. Draco made a low sound in his throat, the noise vibrating through his chest.

"Ah!" She whimpered, looking up at him through her lashes, she caught the amused smile playing around his mouth. "You're such a tease," she breathed. Snaking a hand behind his head, she caught a handful of pale blond hair.

She turned around, rubbing her breasts against his chest, his proud erection hot against her belly. Standing on her tiptoes and captured his lips again.

Groaning in response, Draco hauled her up against him, and awkwardly walked backwards in between wet, searing kisses until they reached the large, old sofa. Sitting down heavily, he brought her on top of him, kissing her wildly.

While one hand toyed with her breasts, alternately tugging and stroking her nipples, one hand cupped her sex intimately. As he touched it, he hissed in delight, eyes closed with pleasure. "You're so wet."

He began to toy with her, circling the bud of her clitoris obliquely, petting her labia, teasing the entrance of her cunt with light, barely-there touches until Hermione thought she might die from want. Panting, she glared at him, only to be rewarded with an arrogant smirk.

_I'll wipe that smug look of your face. _Leaning forward, Hermione kissed his lips briefly, only to drag her tongue from the corner of his mouth along the edge of his sharp jaw line. She lavished his body with kisses, learning his likes and dislikes. Biting the junction of his shoulder and neck rewarded her with a strangled shout and tugging on her hair, while licking his nipple with light flicking motions of his tongue made him whimper.

She was fascinated with the pale hair on his flat abdomen, so pale that it was almost translucent, shimmering like gold in the firelight on his pale skin. She laved it with her tongue, lovingly dragging the edges of her teeth down the ridges of his rectus muscles.

"Damnit, Hermione, come up here." Draco groaned.

Hermione knelt at his feet, and toyed with his thighs and lower abdomen, careful not to touch his cock. She glanced at him through her lashes and smiled. "No. No I don't think so."

Draco cursed as she gripped his dick, throwing his head back against the couch. "Witch!" He hissed.

She examined his cock with an artist's appreciation, caressing it lovingly. It was long, not as long as Ron's, but it seemed a lot thicker. She measured it with her palm, dragging the sensitive pads of her fingers over the organ lightly, causing it to twitch. A pearly drop of pre-cum leaked out, and she bent down, and delicately licked it up.

Draco's fingers tightened in her hair, and she heard him moan appreciatively. Swirling her tongue around the tip, she opened her throat and sucked him, hard, relishing his sharp gasps and curses.

She peeked up at him through her lashes and found he was staring at her intently. His grey eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, his face set in an expression of grim resolve. She felt his organ swell, and released it from her mouth with a small 'pop.'

He moaned, loudly, at the loss, and Hermione crawled up his body, dragging her breasts along his torso. Leaning close, dragging her cunt over his throbbing cock, she whispered into the sensitive shell of his ear, "I can tease too, Malfoy."

Her only warning was a flash of determination in his smoldering glare.

Two fingers suddenly plunged into her wet entrance, causing Hermione to cry out in surprise. Flipping her over, pinning her to the sofa in a rough power play, Draco proceeded to thoroughly dominate her body, wringing out gasps, moans and screams, delighting in them.

"No more games, now, Granger," Draco gritted out through clenched teeth. The firelight framed his pointed face in shadow, giving his pointed features a particularly devilish cast. He parted her legs forcefully, and with little fanfare, thrust balls deep.

Hermione gasped, arching her back, the feeling of suddenly being filled overwhelming after the seemingly endless foreplay. Draco was still for a moment, and when Hermione opened her eyes again, his gaze was riveted on her face. She shot him a trembling smile, and he grinned back.

Then he moved, and there was no time for thought.

His thrusts built them closer and closer to the peak, but just as she was about to orgasm, he would slow down, his cock barely moving until the peak dissipated. After a few round of this, Hermione glared at him. "You're evil," She panted.

"I know," He smirked unsteadily, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

Her fingers slid over the sweat-slicked flesh of his back, his bottom with restless urgency. _Faster, faster… Oh, Draco, I can't take any more…_

Moaning, she screamed as he changed positions, leaning backwards and hitching her knees over his shoulders. The position made Draco's cock slide against a particularly sensitive place, and Hermione felt her orgasm building, stronger and stronger, only needing a small snowball for the avalanche to start sliding.

All her senses were amplified. The sound of their slick bodies rubbing, the popping and crackling of the fire echoed through her brain with the force of a shout. The rough material of the couch rubbed her back, and a small spring jammed into her side with each thrust. The smell of smoke and sweat lingered in the air, tickling her nose.

She felt the magic in her body ebb and flow with each hard thrust, and the peak grew higher and higher, until it exploded in a thousand shimmering bits of starlight, settling into Hermione's skin like tingling bubbles.

Draco cursed and shouted, and gave a few more frantic thrusts, and he was there too. Collapsing into oblivion.

000

They lay together underneath a big pile of blankets by the fire, not willing to leave the warmth to share a lumpy cot on the other side of the tent. The made love for hours, and slept for more until time grew fuzzy.

Eventually, once the soreness and exhaustion wore off, their thoughts focused on the quest.

Draco had found an atlas in the beaded purse and was examining it. He thumbed through the pages delineating the artic region quickly, his movements growing more and more frustrated as he tried to pinpoint their location. "It's impossible to tell where we are."

"Or where we need to go." Hermione said, watching him, uncharacteristically quiet.

Her instincts were screaming - they were close; she knew it in her bones. It was both a disturbing and happy realization. They may be the first in all of recorded history to find the Prize.

But the Quest would end, and so would their partnership.

Hermione's mind shied away from the thought. What would they do afterwards? Could their fragile bond survive what was to come?

Draco was thinking hard, so hard that Hermione fancied she saw a little spark of magic when his eyes popped open. "Agartha is the city in the center of the earth, right? If I recall correctly, Binns used to go on about it in history class."

Hermione nodded.

"Do you think that is what the clue refers to? _Quest's end is near at an island in the North- under, under to the city of eternity._"

"Could be," Hermione sighed and burrowed under the covers. "I wish we had the books on the _Ouroboros_. I remember a little about Agartha, but I'm sure there was more."

"What do you remember?" Draco smiled as he played with a tendril of her springy hair, "The short version, please."

She snatched the lock back with a dirty look. She used her lecturer voice, just to annoy him. "It's an ancient wizarding city at the center of the earth, supposedly created thousands of years ago by Norse wizards to escape persecution. It was famous for its cauldrons, which are often auctioned for obscene amounts of money today. It was also famed for the extreme difficulty in getting there, even for wizardkind."

"It disappeared about a thousand years ago, never heard from again."

Draco rolled over to look at the ceiling, arms tucked behind his head. The pose made his biceps look huge, and bared his chest in a way that made Hermione tingle in delicious ways. She wanted to trace those muscles with her fingertips, lingering on rosy flat nipples and the deep creases of his pectorals.

Cursing her lack of confidence, Hermione looked at the fire instead. "We could use the compass."

Draco furrowed his brow and scowled. Hermione immediately wanted to smooth it. "That _thing_ is unreliable."

"It's the only chance we've got."

"Then we have to try." His frown immediately lightened and eyes gleamed in a way Hermione was beginning to recognize. He nuzzled her neck softly, "Tomorrow."

000

With the compass, finding the cave entrance was relatively easy. The rest was not.

They had traversed mazes before, but this particular labyrinth made the Catacombs of Paris look like a child's toy. As they descended into the bowels of the earth, the air grew warmer, and thankfully Draco and Hermione shed some of their layers as they carefully picked their way through the underground caverns.

Eventually, the cave formations started to look less and less like the usual stalactite and stalagmites, or the delicate, familiar eerily beautiful calcite formations. Things rapidly started to take a turn for the bizarre. Pale mushrooms as big as trees. Bat-like rodents the size of cats flew overhead. Pink glowing lichen covered the walls of certain grottos, and waist-high blue-violet grass covered the floor of another. At one point Hermione swore she saw a Triceratops grazing in the corner of a particularly large cavern. Perhaps most bizarrely, as they walked deeper and deeper into the earth, the cave grew less and less black, the darkness broken by an eerie red light eventually growing so bright that torchlight was no longer necessary.

Stopping for food and sleep, they walked for what seemed like weeks, although it was impossible to tell in the pitch black of the underground.

During one of the stops, Hermione chewed on a stale ration bar that taste like chocolate-flavored cardboard and frowned at her compass.

"The compass isn't working anymore," Hermione said, staring at the compass and frowning. The needle warbled around in the drunkenly, as if it couldn't make up its mind which direction it wanted to point. She shook it, hard, not really expecting that it would fix it, but her Muggle instincts wouldn't allow her to at least not _try_ to bang on the broken object to fix it.

"Let me see," Draco said, grabbing it from her hands. Fiddling with it for a few minutes, he came to the same conclusion. "Damn." He squinted at the tunnels. "Without it we really have no idea where to go, do we?"

Hermione chewed on her lip. "Should we go back?"

Draco frowned. "It has to be nearby."

Hermione silently regarded the useless compass and finished the ration bar. Tucking the wrapper in their waste bag, she stood up and dusted the dirt off her trousers. "The red light is getting stronger, especially in that direction," She nodded towards the tunnel to their left, "Agartha is supposedly at the center of the Earth. We've been walking for what feels like weeks. Could that light be related to the city? I can't imagine a self-sustaining city in the dark. I could be completely wrong, but it seems like the only avenue we have now that damned compass is out of order."

Draco nodded as he squinted down the different passageways. "The light does seem stronger down that passage. It's a sound a plan as any." Standing and stretching, he said, "Let's get another few hours in before we need to sleep."

They walked through the passages for an endless amount of time. It was difficult to say how long. The light only got stronger, and did not wax or wane on any sort of cycle, until it was as bright as the daylight above.

They had luckily never run out of water while in the cave. Every so often on the long trek, one of the caverns would have an underground river, the water cold, clear and swift. Hermione would diligently fill all of the water bottles, because, as she told Draco, camping rule number one was never, ever, pass by something useful lying around without capitalizing upon it. And she was good at camping.

Draco called her a Slytherin. Hermione was insulted.

_Well_, Hermione thought, _At least I know where the rivers were going_.

A vast underground lake filled the huge chamber, the water black and eerily still. The lake extended beyond the chamber, so they couldn't simply walk around it. Hermione could easily see to the other side, where a path led into the next chamber.

A wooden bridge was strung across the lake, at points almost sagging into the pitch-black water. It was made of rotting wood, at points covered in moss. There were ropes holding the bridge up were thick but ancient looking, their weave fraying in parts. Overall, the structure looked about as sturdy as Kreacher on a bad day.

It was an obvious death trap.

"So, Granger, how are you at swim…" Draco trailed off, eyes wide, as the fin of a huge creature cut through the calm water.

They shared a panicked look. Draco swallowed. "Uh, never mind."

"We're so close!" Hermione ground her teeth in frustration. "We're going to have to find another way across."

"No, we can make it- it isn't that long! Let's run for it!"

Hermione looked at the lake, and then looked at the bridge. Furrowing her brows, she said, "You have to be kidding me."

"Trust me." Draco held out his hand.

With only a slight hesitation, Hermione gave him hers. _This is incredibly stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

Tugging her along, they carefully picked their way across the crumbling bridge.

Hermione tried not to look at the black water. Once, when Draco was being particularly slow about deciding the best way to cross a particularly decrepit section of the bridge, she looked down.

She snapped her head back up, face pale, eyes wide. _Teeth… Lots of sharp teeth. _

They had been making decent progress, almost three-quarters of the way across when Hermione looked back. Years later, she never knew what made her glance behind her, some instinct, lingering curiosity, perhaps, but it probably saved their lives.

Gavril and Andrei were standing at the end of the bridge, expressions murderous.

"Draco!" Hermione squeaked, "Draco, we need to go faster!"

"Hm?" He said, drawing his attention away from his intense scrutiny of the next few planks.

"We need to go! Go now!" She pushed at his larger body, frantically trying to get him to _move._ "The Bulgarians! Look!"

Draco's eyes followed her trembling finger, and then widened in shock.

"Run!"

Draco caught Hermione's hand, and they sprinted across the rickety bridge as fast as they could. Hermione almost tumblednumerous times, feet slipping on the moldy wood, hands sliding against the worn rope. Draco's heavier weight was more of a problem. Once, he stepped on a particularly weak plank, almost falling straight through the bridge like a lead weight.

As they neared the end, Hermione chanced another glance back. Gavril and Andrei were _not_ on the bridge racing after them. Instead, they were sawing at the ancient ropes holding up the bridge.

Hermione clamped down on her panic. "Faster, Draco, they're going to destroy the bridge!"

Somehow, they were able to move faster, avoiding the large holes in the rotting wood, avoiding slipping and falling into the black, black waters.

As the shore neared, Hermione felt a rising sense of hope that they might make it out of this alive, they just might make it.

_Almost there, almost there… Yes! _As they stepped onto land, Hermione collapsed into a boneless heap, her legs trembling with exertion and relief. Beside her, Draco did the same, his sides heaving, body covered in sweat.

Not a minute later, the bridge crumbled into the lake with a huge splash. The monster surfaced then, giving them a good look at it for the first time. It was approximately fifteen to twenty feet in length, its skin an unnatural white-grey color, it mouth absolutely enormous, filled with incredibly sharp teeth the size of kitchen knives. Hermione was reminded of field trips to museums during primary school, and the large skeletons of extinct dinosaurs. Its huge jaws engulfed parts of the bridge in a frenzy, obviously looking for flesh to feast on.

Hermione couldn't stop shivering. She clutched Draco's hand like a lifeline, staring at the monster, the Bulgarians, to overwhelmed to process what had just happened.

The Bulgarians were arguing on the other side of the bridge, Andrei screaming incoherently.

"Watch out!" Draco grabbed Hermione, shielding her with his body as the curse ricocheted into the rock face next to them, causing it to blow up.

"They used their wands," Hermione whispered, eyes wide, "They're disqualified!"

As Hermione and Draco watched, peeking out from behind a boulder, two pieces of parchment floated down to the Bulgarian team. Gavril plucked it out of the air, read it, and with the most emotion Hermione had ever seen from him, proceeded to curse. The parchment must have been a portkey, because the team swirled out of existence a few moments later.

With a sense of profound, exhausted relief, Hermione gripped Draco's hand as if clinging to a lifeline. _I won't cry, I won't cry, _she chanted to herself.

Draco squeezed back tightly.

Once their emotions were under control, they trudged away from the lake and its monsters, stopping to rest after a safe distance, collapsing bonelessly together.

After that, the rest of the way was almost easy. There was a well-beaten path in the dirt, which, with no other real option, compass useless and the sunlight bright in all directions, they followed.

To say they were stunned when they saw the house was an understatement.

It was an ordinary sort of cottage, which wouldn't have been out of place in any wizarding village in England. Small and cozy, it was kept in good repair, with a small garden of strange plants to one side. Hermione's eyes were drawn again and again to the small curl of smoke rising from the chimney. _Someone's here._ She shivered.

They had been underground so long, away from any sort of civilization that suddenly the sight of _humanity_ so far away from the Earth's crust, so against all expectations was quite shocking.

"Is that what I think it is?" Draco said.

Hermione squinted. "Unless we're both having the same vision, yes, it is a house in the center of the Earth."

"Did we make it? Did we win?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, "Somehow, I expected a little more fanfare."

Draco marched up to the little house, his hand reaching for the knob, his expression determined.

"Draco," Hermione hissed, "We need to knock!"

Draco raised a brow, imperiously, and said, "I have waited almost a year for this. I will not _knock_."

"Rude prat," Hermione muttered as Draco practically kicked the door down. Hermione sighed and held her trusty kitchen knife at ready.

A handsome black-haired teenage boy sat frozen at the table, a spoon full of stew halfway to his lips. He was dressed in a highly unusual fashion. What looked like a medieval brown tunic was tightly belted over buff breeches and 18-Century style Hessians. Heavy wizarding robes in a deep green covered the outfit. A top hat with golden goggles gracing the brim topped sat jauntily on his head.

Slowly the spoon dropped back to the steaming bowl.

Blinking rapidly, he said, "Um… Who are you?"

"Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."

The boy continued to stare at them blankly. Obviously, the names had no meaning for him. The teen cocked his head slightly, puzzled. "How did you find this place?"

"Merlin's Quest? The Prize? Isn't this the final destination?"

"Oh," The teen's youthful face morphed into one of disbelieving shock. "I guess it is that time. God's teeth! You actually _won_."

Draco grew impatient. In his haughtiest drawl, he said, "And who are you? And where is our Prize?"

The boy looked abashed. "Oh! So sorry! I forgot my manners. The surprise, you know. We don't get many visitors down here." He swooped into an elegant bow, his green robes billowing around him dramatically, quite like a younger, better-looking Professor Snape. "I'm Merlin, the Sorcerer. But I'm hungry now, so can the Prize wait until later?"

He smiled at their stunned expressions and gestured for them to sit.

"Dinner?"

000

Agartha was fascinating. A strange combination of Victorian-Era technology and magic, if Hermione had been in her normal frame of mind, she would have had a thousand questions. So, instead of focusing on the fascinating magical waterwheel, the tiny pocket watches that flitted about on wings, or the odd steam-powered vehicle over by the shop, she just floated about in a daze.

Merlin. She was walking next to _Merlin_. Agartha's resident inventor and Potions master.

Baba Yaga the Trickster was the miller. Circe the Transfiguration Mistress and owner of the tavern. Godric Gryffindor was in charge of Defense and ran the dairy.

And Morgana le Fey, founder of the school of Charms still studied to this day, was apparently the _seamstress_.

Hermione supposed that her brain was allowed to goggle.

Merlin explained Agartha didn't have a sun, per se, but was lit by the inner fire of the earth's core. This explained the strange reddish light that bathed the village at all times, and explained the lack of night/day cycles. But by Hermione's inner reckoning, it was early in the morning. Not that she got any sleep anyway, having spent a mostly sleepless evening at Merlin's tiny cottage badgering the poor man with questions and sharing modern instant coffee. Luckily there were few residents up and about, as it seemed that they were all on similar sleep schedules, or Hermione probably wouldn't have made it through the morning without her brain melting and dribbling out her ears.

They entered an ancient Potions shop at the end of the main street, breezing by all sorts of fascinating mechanical oddities and fascinating potions. Opening the door to the back room, they found themselves surrounded by clutter. The walls were covered with bottles of all shapes and sizes filled with ingredients Hermione recognized and many she didn't. A huge battered bench stood in the center of the room covered with delicate glass distillation equipment. But one thing eclipsed everything else in comparison- a large black cauldron. It was obviously ancient, the edges somewhat battered, but it was polished to a mirror shine. It was made of black basalt and covered in strange runes, and exuded a sense of _power_ that subtlety dominated the room, making the space seem smaller, more claustrophobic.

"Here we are," Merlin said, taking off his top hat and carefully placing it on a high stool, leaving his golden goggles resting on his head, "My workroom. And this," He caressed the ancient black cauldron, "Is what we've come to see. The end of your noble Quest."

"This was a Grail Quest! I knew it!" Hermione started laughing.

Merlin rolled his eyes and muttered something about Malory and creative license while cleaning his goggles vigorously with a linen handkerchief as Hermione laughed herself to tears, while Draco looked mildly confused. Placing his goggles back on his forehead, he cleared his throat. "I am glad that you find the situation so amusing," He glared pointedly at Hermione, who was still giggling, "But we need to get to business. Shall we?"

"Lets," Draco said.

Merlin held out his hand, "Your chest please?"

Draco handed him the small wooden chest, and Merlin carefully took out the contents, placing them on the tabletop. "These are the ingredients to a potion- a very special potion that I discovered when I was very young."

"These are the ingredients to the Eternity Elixir." He chuckled at their shocked expressions. "Yes, I know. Immortality _and_ eternal youth is impossible, etcetera, etcetera. But I assure you, it is possible. This community is living proof."

Turning serious, he said. "The key ingredient to the potion is the cauldron – the specific basalt is only found here, in Agartha and no other substance will do. It is a very difficult potion to attempt, but rest assured, I have succeeded many times. We would love to have new blood into our community."

"So we can never go back?"

"That is the condition of my service- you must remain here, with us for the duration of your lifespan. If you do not want to partake of the potion, you must take a Vow of silence to never reveal the Prize of the Quest. The secret of this potion can never leave Agartha. You must realize that the dire consequences if the Elixir were common knowledge."

Thinking of Voldemort and his mad quest for immortality, Hermione agreed wholeheartedly.

"So why isn't this place more populated?" Draco said, "I can imagine the size of some of these families must grow exponentially."

Merlin's unlined face grew grim, and suddenly Hermione believed that this man was over a thousand years old. "I won't lie to you. The elixir of life does not come without cost. Those that drink of it will never conceive children of their own blood." He shrugged. "There is always a price to pay for something so precious. Some have waited until after they had a child to drink from the black cauldron. Many in our community have adopted foundlings, when we do have the rare child that wanders our way."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was staring at the stone cauldron in silence. She tried to read his expression.

Merlin traced a pale finger around the rim of the cauldron almost lovingly. Giving them a quick grin, he said, "I'll give you a day to think about it." Tipping his top hat to them, he strode out of the workroom, whistling a happy tune, leaving two very confused souls in his wake.

000

They made love that night, but it felt like goodbye.

At least to Hermione. Afterwards, she flopped over on the bed, and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to stop tears.

After awhile, she felt Draco's hand on her shoulder. "Are you crying?"

"No," she said, her voice stuffy.

"Liar."

They lay in silence for a while, the air between them heavy with things unsaid.

"We have to talk." Draco said, staring at the ceiling.

"So talk." Hermione said, just as tense.

"What do you want?"

"What do _you_ want?"

_This is ridiculous, _Hermione thought. Gathering her Gryffindor courage, she said, "What I want is…" She licked suddenly dry lips as she searched his eyes. "I think I want _you_." She turned away quickly, curling in on herself, feeling terribly vulnerable.

Strong arms suddenly pulled her against Draco's hard, lean body, and she caught a glimpse of happy grey and her lips were caught in a bruising kiss. Suddenly she couldn't think anymore. And it certainly didn't matter.

000

As they surfaced above the earth, the weak sunlight of the North Pole greeted them, refreshingly bright compared to the smoky haze of Agartha.

"Were you temped? Even a little?" Draco asked, his voice rough with fatigue. He had a few days growth of beard gracing his angular cheeks, and dark circles under his eyes. Hermione knew exactly how long he had gone without grooming, and thought that it was amazingly unfair that he somehow managed to look more attractive without extensive primping.

"Yes."

Draco looked at her, brows raised.

Hermione snorted. "I'm not a saint. Immortality is the one prize that would tempt me- especially when I don't have to sacrifice my soul to gain it."

"So why didn't you take it?"

"Why didn't you?" Hermione countered hotly.

Draco looked thoughtful. "I suppose I have too much to live for here on earth to go to Paradise yet."

Hermione flushed, but smiled widely. She felt Draco grab her hand and squeeze. Grinning stupidly, she squeezed back.

"And…"

Hermione's head jerked up, suspicious. "And?"

"I stole a piece of that basalt they were going on about." Draco smirked. "Fancy buying a new boat?"

Hermione's laughter rang out with the daylight, echoing brightly over the tundra.

000


End file.
